Building Sandcastles in the Surf
by element90
Summary: Phil and Keely discover that sometimes letting go is the only way to hold on.
1. Chapter 1

I've been debating whether to start a multi-chapter story since this time of year is pretty crazy...but I guess now the debate is over. This isn't the story I was _going_ to write. I have a very vague idea about what to do here. I hope I can drum up something. The title came to me the other day, and I thought about what it could mean, and then, that same night, I had a dream...hmm...you know you're in deep when potf characters invade your sleep. So...there's the inspiration...now to figure out what to do with it.

Moofoot, until you pointed it out (as you do with many things) I never noticed I always use present tense. I used to write in past tense, according to what's in my notebooks. Strange. Don't know when or why the change occurred. Life's mysteries, eh?

daydreamr'girl, wow, what a pleasant surprise waiting for me in my Inbox. Thank you so very much. More on that soon. Cool?

So..thanks!

Building Sandcastles in the Surf

Chapter One

He quickly jumps back behind the cover of the wall when he sees her coming around the corner. As she walks by patting the front of her shirt in irritation, he reaches out, grabs her by the arm, and hastily pulls her into the small storage shed.

"Phil!"

"Shh," he says holding his finger to his lips as he pulls her close. "C'mere," he whispers.

Keely doesn't have any objections to that demand. They kiss in the dimly lit building among mountains of cardboard boxes and plastic storage containers.

"Very sneaky, Phil Diffy," she says in a quiet, breathy voice when he finally releases her.

He smiles, but then realizes there is a cold, damp sensation seeping through his shirt onto his chest. His eyes roam over her. "You're all..."

"Yeah. Owen."

He chuckles. "I'm surprised he could resist as long as he did."

"Well, apparently, he was waiting for the perfect opportunity," she says while examining the dark spots on her clothing.

Phil taps his chin. "Hmmm...and that just happened to be when I left." He gestures with a nod of his head to the door. "Want me to have a few words with him?"

"My hero," she says teasingly as she leans into him. A few minutes later, she tries to pull away, but his arms tighten around her waist, keeping her firmly locked in place. "Phil," she says holding up her hand to block him when he moves forward to steal another kiss.

"Mm-hmm," he mutters quietly, completely distracted by the sweet scent of her perfume as he nuzzles her neck.

"We can't stay in here all day."

He leans his head back and gives her an incredulous look. "Sure we can."

"Nope. Come on," she says as she pulls him by the hem of his shirt.

"Keel..." he says with an innocent flutter of his lashes. She glances over at him and raises her eyebrow, stoically not giving into his flirtations. "It always works when _you _do it," he says dejectedly through a heavy sigh.

She smiles brightly. "That's because _I_ invented that look." She pulls him through the door, glancing over her shoulder. "And you're _so_ weak."

As they make their reappearance in the front yard, they are giggling softly. Owen glances up at them and relief flashes across his face. "Hey, thought you two had left us with the dryin'."

"Drying?" Phil asks in confusion as he approaches his friend.

"Yep. Grab a towel," he says pointing at the pile on the ground.

Phil stares at it for a beat. "I'm not..." he says as he looks back Owen, "_towel-drying _your car."

"I'm with him," Keely chimes in with a glare in his direction.

"Guys..." Owen says staring at them in disbelief, "water spots on my brand new baby?" He shakes his head. "I don't think so."

Phil glances over at the car. "And that's another thing," he says with a frown. "Why did we just wash a car you got yesterday?" He looks up at the gray overcast sky. "And in this weather."

Owen shrugs. "'Cause you all are..." A grin forms on his face. "A bunch of suckers?"

Completely unamused, Phil narrows his eyes at him while Keely nods to Via. "Do it."

Suddenly, a gush of water ejects from the hose and hits him squarely in the back of his head. "Ahhh!" he shrieks, doing a little dance to escape the spray. "That's cold!"

Keely huffs. "Exactly." She picks up a wet sponge off the ground and throws it at him. It bounces off his chest, and Phil quickly grabs up a sponge of his own while Via points the hose at him again. They circle their prey.

"I surrender!" he shouts raising his hands, fearful of their wrath.

Keely glances over at Phil, who looks to Via for confirmation. They silently agree to let him off the hook, but as Keely and Via drop their weapons, Phil draws his arm back and throws his sponge as hard as he possibly can.

"_Dude_!" Owen exclaims as it smacks against his forehead.

"That's for drenching Keely," he says sternly pointing his finger at his friend before glancing over at her with a wink. She smiles appreciatively.

Owen rubs his forehead. "All right, I get it. Truce now?"

Phil nods.

"Ok...we'll pass on the towel-drying," Owen regretfully concedes as he frowns at his car, but then he shrugs and looks back at his friends. "Pizza?"

"Sounds good," Phil says glancing between Keely and Via, who are seemingly indifferent to the idea.

"Awesome!" he replies hurrying to the front door. "It'll be on the deck in thirty!" he shouts before entering his house.

Phil looks down at the sponges and towels and buckets on the ground. "Should we...?" Keely raises her eyebrows and Via shakes her head. "Yeah, you're right."

Via starts to make her way to the backyard, but she pauses when she realizes no one is following her. She glances over her shoulder to find them standing in the same spot she left them in. Of course, he has his arm around her waist, and her arm hangs over his shoulders. They are grinning at each other and whispering softly. Via rolls her eyes, but a smile plays on her lips.

"Owen's storage shed is quite well organized, don't you two agree?"

They slowly turn their heads in her direction. Hiding her smirk, she adds nonchalantly, "One might assume Owen's parents would be more like him."

Phil and Keely just stare at her blankly, neither one of them catching onto the real meaning behind her seemingly casual observation so she just shrugs and turns her back to them. Within a few seconds, Phil finally jumps on board.

"How'd she know?" he asks in a low voice, turning to Keely.

"You two couldn't be more predictable," Via replies in a dry tone without looking back at them,

Phil nudges Keely gently and whispers once Via is out of sight, "Bionic ear on that one, I tell ya."

Keely silently agrees and they begin their journey to the backyard, giggling quietly along the way. As they ascend the stairs, Owen pops his head out the glass double doors. "Drinkage, anyone?"

"I'll take a bottle of water," Via says with a polite smile.

Keely shakes her head and Phil shrugs. "Yeah, water'll be good," he replies, steering Keely to the wooden swing. Leaning against him, she rests her head on his shoulder and closes her eyes.

"Phil," Via says jokingly as she sits at the small table a few feet away from the couple, "haven't you been letting her get any rest?

He furrows his brow and glances down at her face. "Are you sleepy?"

She opens her eyes and sighs. "Kinda."

"I had nothing to do with it," he says holding up his hand in self-defense as Via snickers.

Keely chuckles. "He's telling the truth. It's Owen's fault. I think his big birthday bash last night is starting to catch up with me."

"You've been tired a lot lately," Via notes as her smile fades.

She shrugs. "I guess so."

"Must be from all that extra shopping you've been doing," Phil offers lightly, despite the small voice telling him he has to agree with Via, telling him he's noticed Keely's unusual lethargy lately too.

"Hey, Senior Prom is only.." She looks up in thought as she mentally calculates the days, or tries to. "Well, it's not that far off and a girl's gotta be prepared for one of the most important nights of her entire life."

Phil raises his eyebrow. "Keel," he says gently, "Prom's like three months away."

"But I'm having my dress specially made," she says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "A dream dress isn't stitched together in a day, Phil."

"It could be if you'd let me use the Wiz--"

Her elbow sharply jabs his side. He realizes his near-blunder and looks over at Via who is watching him with a slight crease in her forehead. He chuckles nervously, "The _wizard_..that is the very talented _seamstress_..uh..Mrs...uh..Tailor."

"Right, good old seamstress-wizard Mrs. Tailor," Keely says trying to keep a straight face. He narrows his eyes at her while the crease in Via's forehead deepens.

The french doors squeak open, and Owen comes through carrying two bottles of water in one hand, a bag of potato chips clenched between his teeth, and a large plastic cup filled to the rim with soda and ice in the other hand, while trying to shut the door with his foot. He mutters something indistinct as he manages to pull the door to, but then spills some of his drink as he tries to reach down to grab the knob to close the door the rest of the way.

With an amused expression, Via suppresses her laugh and crosses her legs. Phil frowns at his friend's lack of coordination while Keely, despite having been attacked by Owen earlier, rises off the swing and moves to shut the door for him. He nods. "'anks, 'eely," he mumbles around the bag of food hanging between his lips as he hands her a bottle.

She waves him off and returns to the swing. Phil smiles. "Only you, Keel," he says quietly.

"I know. It's hard to be the nice girl..." She cuts her eyes over at Owen as he situates himself at the table, nearly spilling the remainder of his drink. "Especially to him," she says turning back to Phil, "but someone's gotta do it."

He gives her a peck on the cheek.

"Ah man," Owen whines as he looks down at his chip bag in disappointment. "These aren't _classic_ potato chips."

"Well, don't cry, Owen. It'll be all right," Via says giving him a little pat on the shoulder.

He tosses the bag onto the table and leans back in his chair. "I cannot eat those."

"I think you ate all the ones _without_ the ridges last night, Owen."

He nods after giving that a little thought and then a little more thought. "Mm-hmm. Yes, I did. You're right, my good man." He laughs. "Hey remember when I thought you were sneakin' 'em from my bowl and I was all about to unleash my kung-fu on you?"

Phil replies unemotionally, "Yeah, Owen. I remember."

Keely smiles, recalling last night's events, the gathering of dear friends, the huge cake with the picture of a two-year-old Owen in the bathtub and the priceless expression on his face when his mom had unveiled it to all his guests, and the dancing on the deck to a soft melody under strings of tiny white lights, with the cool breeze gently swirling around them...

Dancing with him into the night...lost in his gaze...like tomorrow would never come...

Tomorrow...now today...

"We're all eighteen now," she says slowly as if the realization has just now come to her. She grins. "We're kinda like adults. Isn't that--"

"Frightening?" Via asks with a nod in Owen's direction.

"I was gonna say 'cool' but... What is he doing?"

They turn their attention to Owen as he carefully, tediously, smashes a chip into the surface of the table. After a beat, he glances up at them. "What? I'm tryin' to flatten out the ridges."

"Yeah..frightening is a much better word."

Via smiles. "And now that Graduation is only a few months away..."

"It's even _more_ frightening."

Phil shrugs. "Not really."

Keely cuts her eyes over at him. "Look at you trying to be all Mr-Cool-Calm-and-Collected."

"Are you nervous about life after high school, Phil?" Via asks.

He scoffs. "Please. What's there to be nervous about? Like the day after we graduate is going to be any different than the day of or the day before."

Keely looks at Via and mouths 'nervous'."

Phil rolls his eyes. "I'm not nervous." He straightens his shoulders confidently. "I have no reason at all to fear the future."

A quiet snort sounds next to him, and he glances over at Keely, silently questioning her little outburst. "Future," she mumbles with another snort.

He grins at her and turns his attention back to Via who is curiously watching them. "What about you?"

She sighs. "I haven't a clue."

Owen laughs. "You and Phil are as lost as little puppies... while _me and Keely _are the ones with a plan. Hmph."

She frowns and looks to Phil. "Yes, why is that?"

He shrugs. "Life's ironic."

"Hey!" Keely interjects with a poke to his ribs. "Are you saying something mean?" She furrows her brow. "Wait, yeah, that's exactly what you're saying. And _he_ actually got that before me," she says with a slight pout.

Phil chuckles. "I think what Owen meant was that you guys have..." He glances over at him as the implications finally hit him. "You have a plan?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah. Big plan," Owen says taking a large gulp of soda and finishing with a loud belch.

"Three guesses as to what that big plan is," Via says dryly as she watches him with an equally dry expression while he belches again and shakes the chip crumbs off his shirt sending them flying in her direction.

"Make your jest, Via, but I'll have you know that I not only have a college choice," he says holding up his finger, "_but_, also a very, very highly respected career in mind."

They patiently await him to continue. He lifts his chin in a prideful manner. "You're lookin' at the next generation's esteemed motivational speaker."

Phil nearly chokes on his water while Keely hides her smile and Via blankly stares at him.

He turns to them. "What? I think after spending four years in a college dorm, I'm gonna have _a lot _of good examples of what-_not_-to-do to tell the little kiddies."

Via furrows her brow. "Oddly...there is logic to that."

Suddenly, Owen jumps up as the delivery vehicle pulls up out front. "Pizza's here!"

As he jogs into the house, Phil shakes his head. "You know? It's guys like him that really do succeed in life."

Via nods. "Disturbing thought, isn't it?"

"I think you guys don't give him enough credit."

"Don't listen to the nice girl, Via," he says with a smile. "She's programmed to say things like that."

"Am I also _programmed _to do this?" she asks before quickly pinching his arm.

He rubs the spot as she smirks. "Not-so-nice-girl," he mutters.

"Oh here, lemme make it better," she says leaning forward, but Via softly clears her throat and she pauses mid-motion and turns to look at the brunette.

She shrugs innocently. "Just a bit of trouble swallowing my water."

Phil smiles as he takes Keely's hand in his. "Do our public displays of affection make you uncomfortable?"

She shakes her head and offers them a genuine smile. "No, I think you two are absolutely adorable."

"She lacks a guy," Keely whispers to Phil.

"You want a boyfriend, Via?" he asks.

Quickly, Owen steps out onto the deck, pizza box and paper plates in hand. "Did I hear boyfriend and Via in the same sentence?"

She rolls her eyes. "No, I don't want a boyfriend." She glances at Owen who is looking around the deck as if the answer to his question will be found there. "I've all ready got him. That's more than plenty."

"Ooh, that's hot!" Owen says, suddenly becoming of aware of the burning heat in the palm of his hand. Striding across the deck, he dumps the box onto the table.

"As most oven-cooked foods are," Via quips as she scoots her chair closer.

Phil stands and tugs on Keely's hand, but she doesn't budge. "You're not gonna come eat?"

"I'm not hungry," she says with a shrug.

"Big breakfast?"

"Yeah," she replies without meeting his eyes.

Phil stands there for a moment watching her, trying to figure out why her reply leaves him feeling slightly uneasy, but Owen interrupts his thoughts.

"Ahh..breakfast," he says nostalgically as he bring a slice of pepperoni pizza to his mouth. "I had a pound of bacon smothered in syrup."

"That's nice, Owen," Phil replies before looking back down at Keely. "You sure you're not hungry?"

She nods. "I'm sure. Go ahead."

He shakes off the lingering feeling of doubt and joins his friends at the table, but he looks back at her. She swings gently and stares at the trees waving in the light wind. She's fine, he reassures himself. She's just fine.

"What's pepperoni made of?"

Via groans. "Can we please have a meal without you having to analyze the ingredients of our food?"

Phil chuckles. "At least he's analyzing, Via."

She gives him a wink, and Owen glances between the two of them, oblivious to the fact that they're making fun of him, again. He shrugs. "I'm just curious. Food makes me that way." He holds up his second slice, admiring it before shoving it into his mouth.

"It's just spiced sausage, Owen," Phil offers.

"Not in Europe, it isn't."

Phil looks up through his lashes at her sitting across the table. "Don't go there, Via," he says shaking his head. She smiles.

Keely slowly approaches the table. "I think I'm gonna head home, guys."

"Are you ok?" Phil asks lowering his pizza to his plate.

"Why wouldn't I be?" she asks with a shrug.

"Well...why do you want to leave?"

"I'm just...tired."

For a brief moment, he doesn't respond. He just watches her, careful to take note of the way she once again refuses to meet his eyes, but then he wipes his hands and pushes his chair back from the table. "Then we'll go," he says with small smile as he stands up next to her.

"You don't have to go, Phil," she says gesturing to their friends. "You should stay."

"I would... but you're my ride," he says with a lopsided grin. "I don't really feel like walking."

"Right."

He takes her hand and glances at Owen. "Thanks for the pizza."

"Oh, yeah, no prob. Thanks for helpin' shine up my baby." He winces as he looks at Keely. "Really sorry about the water hose thing."

"All's forgiven."

Via takes a drink and stands up. "Well, I should be getting home too."

"Oh, Via..I forgot."

She shakes her head. "It's fine, Keely. I think I'll walk this time."

"No, no, no," Owen interjects rising to his feet. "I'll give you a ride home, Via."

"It's ok, really."

"No, I insist."

She looks to Keely and Phil for some help, but they're fresh out. She sighs. "All right, Owen."

"Yes!" He grabs the remaining slices from the box. "For the road," he says to the three faces watching him.

"Well..Via does live pretty far. What is it.. a whole..." Phil glances over at her. "Eight, nine blocks from here?"

"Not far enough, actually," she says in a quiet voice as she passes by him.

Owen quickly follows behind her, but pauses to pat Phil on the back. "See ya at school tomorrow, Phil, Keel." He laughs. "Huh, that rhymes."

Keely smiles as he hurries down the steps to catch up with Via. "Think they'll ever get together?"

Phil scoffs. "I think the fact that she...tolerates him..is as together as those two will ever get."

"You're right. What was I thinking?" she says before suppressing a yawn.

"You really are sleepy," Phil says with a hint of concern in his voice, which Keely immediately picks up on.

"Well, we _did_ have a late night, but..with a little rest, I'll be as good as new."

"Ok..." he concedes when she gives him a bright smile.

Leading him out to the car, she tries to pretend he isn't closely watching her every move, and as they drive away from Owen's house, she tries not to notice the way he keeps casually glancing over at her.

He wonders why she just doesn't say something about it. Normally, she would, but since she's choosing to remain silent this time, he concludes that she, obviously, doesn't _want _to say something about it. And that usually means she's avoiding saying something about it. And that can only mean 'something' must not be a good thing.

Glancing over at her again, as her hand covers another yawn, he notices something else. It could be from the lack of sunlight pouring in through the windows. It could be from the little amount of sleep she had last night. It could be a combination of both, but regardless of the reason, her eyes don't shine quite the way they should, quite they way they always have.

"Hey," she says turning to look at him, "that paper's not due tomorrow, is it?"

He nods.

"Oh."

He smiles, his worries temporarily forgotten. "You haven't finished it."

"Well, when you say..._finished_..."

"You haven't even started it."

She grins.

The shine makes only a small, brief appearance, but it's enough to assuage his concerns. They comfortably settle into a discussion about the homework assignment they've had a week to complete while he mercilessly teases her about her procrastination, which she firmly denies.

"I guess this means you're not dropping me off at my house," he says with a resigned sigh, knowing without having to ask, without her having to say the words, exactly what he will be doing tonight.

"Thanks, Phil."

A few hours later, she watches him with a bored expression as he flips through the pages of her textbook.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

He shakes his head and proudly produces the page he was searching for. She settles back against the pillows on her bed, and within seconds, he joins her, and she eagerly snuggles into his warmth.

"Ok, you really need to touch on this," he says pointing to a paragraph, "otherwise, the paper's not gonna...Keely?"

"I'm hearing you."

"Yeah, but you're not _listening_."

She sighs. "I guess I just don't get the point of this assignment."

"The point is to learn something."

She scoff. "It's physics, Phil. I'm not gonna be a physi..physic..is..tist..." She shrugs while he bites down on his lip to keep from laughing. "Physics-person."

"Maybe not, but the laws of physics govern our everyday lives, Keel."

"Phil...you time-traveled from the next century..."

He furrows his brow. "Good point," he says looking down at the book. "So maybe the information in this book is slightly out-dated to _me_...but I still had to do the paper," he says setting the book in her lap, "and you do too."

With much reluctance, she pulls her notebook into her lap as Phil leans over the side of the bed to grab another book off the floor.

"A dictionary?" she asks as he holds it out to her.

"I don't think you should use 'physics-person' in your paper."

She rolls her eyes. "Well, while you think on that..," she says rising to her feet, much to his disappointment, "I'm gonna go to the..th..."

"Keely?" he asks, quickly moving to steady her.

"Whoa.." She briefly closes her eyes as she takes him by the shoulder for extra support.

He gently encourages her to ease back down onto the bed. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah...I'm fine..I..guess I just..got up too fast."

"Are you sure?" His eyes scan her face. "You look pale."

She laughs lightly. "Well, it _is_ winter."

"I'm serious, Keely."

"I'm fine, Phil." She stands up again, carefully this time. She looks down at his worried face and offers him a weak smile. "I'll be right back."

He doesn't want to let her drop it like that, but he doesn't want to cause an argument either.

In the bathroom, she leans onto the counter and hangs her head as she tries to catch her breath. The distance she covered was minimal. She shouldn't be out of breath, but she is. And that bothers her.

Her heart flutters in her chest. Her skin feels warm despite the cool, comfortable temperature inside the house. She's dizzy, and the specks of light dancing behind her eyelids make her feel nauseous. She takes a deep breath and splashes some cold water onto her flushed cheeks. Within a few moments, the vertigo wanes and her heartbeat returns to normal, but the ill feeling in her stomach remains.

Staring at the drain, she tries to block the fear rising up from deep inside her, from a place she'd managed to push it to days ago. But it has come back, and she can't deny it this time.

Something is wrong.

"Hey," he says softly from the doorway.

"Hey," she says in a forced cheerful voice as she turns to him.

He watches her for a moment, gauging her posture and the slight aberration in her tone. She knows what he's doing; it's the same thing he always does. She can't hide anything from him, and that should only prove to her how much he understands her and how much he cares for her, if he can pick up on even the smallest changes, but it doesn't do that. Instead, it irritates her. Especially now, when she can't cover the fact that she isn't being completely honest.

But then, he also allows her the time she needs to take before shedding light on that fact. And for that, she loves him all the more.

"Ready to explore the laws of the universe now?"

She smiles. "Yeah..sure..if that's what it takes to pass the class."

He takes her by the hand, ignoring the clamminess of the pale skin at her wrist, and leads her back to her bedroom. She's fine, he tells himself. She's just fine.

And as she bounces onto the bed and takes up her notebook and pen, casting a grin his way, he can actually believe it.

She's fine. Just fine.

He whispers back to the voice in his mind, _she has to be_.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The purpose of signs...

Signs are there to lead, to show, and to warn. Some signs are undeniable, while others are unclear. Some are hidden, and some signs are just simply ignored.

The face in the mirror isn't her own. Every morning it becomes a little more unfamiliar, and she's not the only one who recognizes the subtle changes, the signs.

Her mom greets her everyday in the kitchen before leaving for work. She used to greet her with French toast, scrambled eggs, or donuts, but the food was going to waste, so she stopped. Another sign.

Now, she greets her with lines of worry etched onto her face and with a question on the tip of her tongue.

And the answer is the same each time. Dishonesty. Her mom doesn't believe it, not for a second. She'll ask her a second time but will receive no response to the contrary, and, ultimately, she'll give in. She doesn't ever ask again until the following morning.

Dodging her mom is difficult, and she doesn't even know why she does it. Is it really worth the effort? She should just tell her that she feels sick and that she's felt sick for days, weeks maybe. The signs are there; they're unmistakable.

She examines her reflection, the dry skin so thin and pale. Her eyes are dull, though she sleeps more now than she ever did. But she never rests. Her body is weak and more fragile than it should be at her age; it aches constantly. And the hunger pains, they gnaw at her, but she rarely appeases them. Food is unappealing now. She only consumes out of necessity, forcing it down but never truly enjoying it. Not like she used to. And for that reason, her clothes hang loosely on her frame. No, she thinks, not loosely. Disgustingly.

And then there are the chills, the fever, the tightening in her chest, and the spinning in her head, the pain behind her eyes and within her muscles. The changes taking place right before her are signs that something is wrong. And their clarity is startling.

The signs are noted, not only by herself and her mom, but by him. And keeping _him_ from worrying has proved to be ten times harder than reassuring her mom. How does she hide something from the one person in the world who knows everything about her?

Truth is, she doesn't.

But even more troubling..why does she even want to?

She glances over at her nightstand. Looking at his face in the photograph, she receives her answer. Telling the person who loves her the way he does, that she feels sick, that she feels like something inside her isn't quite right, is much harder than hiding that fact could ever be.

But she's not really hiding anything at all. She knows that. He sees the signs too. And he has asked about them. He asks her how she's feeling everyday. He never did that before the signs appeared. He never did that before that night.

She sighs and turns away from the picture gracing her beside table. He probably saw the signs before she did. He's like that.

He left her house that night without another word about what had happened, or almost happened. She didn't bring it up either. What would she have said anyway? Still, she felt guilty for not telling someone. Maybe guilty isn't right. Maybe regretful is a much better word.

Days later, she still hasn't mentioned it, nor has he. And she never told her mom, even though it happened once before, and once more after.

If she tells her mom...well, she's aware of the reaction she'll get. If she tells him...well, there's no need to mention something that probably isn't anything in the first place. Probably. At least, that's what she hopes.

She finishes dressing and allows herself another glimpse in the mirror. Her makeup is doing a fairly decent job of covering the dark circles under her eyes, dark circles that shouldn't even be there. She slept soundly last night. She slept a long time in fact, but that didn't make her feel any more rested upon waking this morning.

Deciding her appearance is acceptable, she heads downstairs. Luckily, it's Sunday and her mom has all ready left the house to join her friends for their weekend brunch. She passes by the kitchen and her stomach growls its impatience, but she ignores it. The thought of food is the last thing on her mind right now. She's hungry, naturally, like most people who haven't ate much in the last twenty-four hours would be, but she can't quite find any interest in eating. She has to eat, she knows that, and she wants to eat, but nothing sounds good, nothing tastes good.

But, today, he's coming to her house, like he has nearly every Sunday for months now. She's not sure when it became a ritual, but it doesn't matter. He comes here, they lounge around, do nothing in particular at all, and just simply enjoy being together. These days like today are precious to her, more so than any other time spent with him. Extravagant dates, romantic and intended-to-be-romantic visits to places she didn't even know existed don't compare to the lazy Sundays spent right here in her ordinary, unexciting living room.

"Hey," he says stepping through the front door without a knock or permission to enter.

She's sitting on the couch, expecting his arrival like always. "Hi," she says in a cheery voice, a normal voice.

He pauses at the doorway and watches her for a moment. Recently, he has spent a considerable amount of time trying to figure her out. A hundred scenarios have played in his mind. Did he do something? Was it something he said? Maybe a random remark that offended her? Really, he just asks himself those questions to keep the other, more unsettling, question at bay.

"So.." she says with a smile, beckoning him to join her on the couch. "Let's get down to business."

He raises his eyebrow as he plops down beside her. "Business? What business?"

"Phil...do you realize what's fast approaching?"

"Um..." He frowns. "I know it's not our--"

"Nope."

"Is it...the anniversary of the...first time we held hands?...Or the first time we used the words 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend' in reference to each other?" he asks with a teasing smirk.

"Very funny."

He leans back and props his feet up on the coffee table, placing one leg over the other. "Let me think..."

"February?" she says with a frustrated, impatient sigh.

"Yes, that's the month we're currently in."

Narrowing her eyes at him, she grits through her teeth, "_Fourteenth_?"

"After the thirteenth and before the fifteenth."

"Phil! WHAT are we doing for Valentine's Day?" she asks giving his leg a good slap.

"We could do what we did on our first Valentine's Day together," he offers, unaffected by her dramatic display.

"Oh no," she replies shaking her head. "We are _not_ doing _that_."

He rolls his eyes. "Come on, Keel. It's been almost a year. Aren't you over what happened?"

"Over it? It was a total disaster, Phil."

"It was the first time, Keel. We didn't know what to expect."

"Yeah, well, the first time was the last time as far as I'm concerned," she scoffs.

"So things didn't go so smoothly..." he says with a shrug. She casts him a doubtful look, and he sighs. "Look, I think we learned a few things that night, don't you agree? I mean, if we do it again, we'll know what we're in store for." He smiles. "Disaster can be avoided, and we might just have some fun with it."

"Why do you want to do it again anyway? Wasn't the one time enough for you?"

"I think it's worth another shot."

"Let's do something a little bit more romantic? Can we?" she asks hopefully.

"That wasn't romantic to you?" he asks with a frown.

She raises her eyebrows. "Are you loopy? That was the furthest thing from romantic."

"You said you liked it," he replies slightly offended.

"No, I said it was interesting."

He quickly sits up and turns to face her. "So, basically, you lied to me."

She shrugs. "I just didn't want to hurt your feelings. You put so much effort into it, with all the planning and preparing...which apparently wasn't enough since everything turned out to be one big strange and _kinda _scary surprise..."

She adds sympathetically, "I didn't want you to be disappointed because I was."

"Hmm..well, I appreciate that and while I don't share your opinion.._exactly_..I guess it was a little bad."

"A little bad," she repeats dryly.

He shrugs. "There were highlights to the evening."

"Like what?" she asks crossing her arms over her chest.

Under her unflinching, unwavering gaze, he begins to sweat the slightest bit under his collar and clears his throat. "Um..like the..uh.." He snaps his fingers. "What was the thing called? You know...the thing with the...other...things..."

Keely rolls her eyes.

"I guess there wasn't a highlight," he says glumly.

She relaxes her posture and reassuringly pats his knee. "Ok, if a highlight was to be found, it would have been--"

"Overlooking the city under the stars?" he asks with renewed hope.

"Umm," she says with a wince, "well, _I guess _the stars were there..."

"Right. The smog."

"And where the overlooking took place?" she says as an image of the towering structure comes to mind. "Didn't scream romantic."

"No, I guess it didn't," Phil agrees, picturing the two of them arm-in-am atop the glorious Science Centre Tower overlooking the city's shipyards. He sighs. "The dinner was nice, though."

Keely raises her eyebrow. "You don't mean thedinner in the not-so-much-a-cafe-more-like-a-bar place."

"Well, they still let us in out of the rain, didn't they?"

"Yeaaah...'cause the doorman thought I was hot." She frowns and uncomfortably shifts on the couch. "At least, that's what I figured he thought from the way he...you know..."

"Looked you up and down like you were a piece of meat? Nearly drooled on you when he tried to _politely_ kiss your hand?" She narrows her eyes at him. "Who could blame him? You _did _look pretty hot that night," he says with a light chuckle.

"Eww...Phil...he was like forty years old." She grimaces. "And he had cheese in his beard."

"At least there wasn't beard in our cheese," he offers with a light shrug of his shoulders.

"That was cheese that we ate?"

He chews on his lip for a moment. "I...think."

Shivering at the prospect of what they actually might have consumed that night, she asks, "Do you still believe it wasn't a total disaster?"

He scoots closer to her and leans back into the cushions. "What about the botanical gardens?" he asks while grazing her arm with his fingertips.

"My eyes almost swelled shut," she answers plainly.

He shrugs it off and continues languidly drawing random patterns on her skin. "And making those cute bunnies holding the little hearts at The Ceramic Experience?"

Making her best attempts to disallow his actions to evoke the reaction he desires, Keely keeps a straight face and an even tone to her voice. "Fun...until that kid splattered red paint all over my shirt."

He smiles and hums softly. "Yeah..." His fingers rake across the back of her hand.

"Which was fine," she says having to make a quick change in position to keep him from noticing her slight tremble, "until all those people started offering me directions to the nearest hospital."

He laughs and laces his fingers through hers, bringing their joined hands to rest upon his chest.

"Huh," she says looking up at the ceiling, "I don't remember that being funny."

"Ok..ok." He glances up at her with an adorable, boyish expression she always finds irresistible. Predictably, her poorly constructed walls begin to crumble. "But you gotta admit, Keel...the moonlit stroll along the river was exactly what the greatest love poems are made of."

"It was. Major points in the romance column for that," she says looking into his eyes. Smiling in satisfaction, he nods his head and looks down at their hands. "_But_..." she says with a faint smirk, "that was _before_ the big ship came in blowing its horn. My ear had this annoying little ringing in it for hours."

He sighs, knowing he's lost the battle. "Keel..."

"Well..."

"So...Glasgow's City of Love festival is off the table?"

"Definitely." She slumps down next to him. "And just so you know...you making me fall of the Skyak was the highlight."

"It was a mechanical glitch," he grumbles.

"I'm sure it was," she replies with a sweet smile of mock sincerity.

He shrugs. "At least we were on the ground when it happened."

"Yeah, that was kinda what made it the highlight."

"Well, what's your idea of the best, most romantic Valentine's Day ever?" He huffs, "If not a City of Love festival. I mean..some of the _actual_ remains of Saint Valentine himself were there." He mutters, "What's more romantic than that?"

Keely rolls her eyes. "Oh, yes, Phil. Being in the same city as the bones of some old dead guy are just what a girl's heart longs for on the most romantic day of the year."

"Some girls are just impossible to impress," he mumbles.

"You shouldn't have to impress a girl you've already got, Phil."

He glances over at her. "Is that true?"

"Yep," she replies cuddling closer to his side and resting her head on his shoulder.

"So I didn't have to impress you that night...because you were my girlfriend and not some random date?"

"Yep."

"And I still don't have to impress you?" he asks sounding less relieved than most guys would sound in light of this new-found knowledge.

"I'm totally impressed, Phil. All the time."

He frowns. "Will that make us really, really boring really, really fast?"

"I gave up trying to impress you a long time ago...are _you_ bored?"

He grins. "Not at all."

"Then I guess you just answered your own question," she replies giving him a quick smooch on the cheek.

He sighs contentedly. "Cool. Wait...did we at any point in this conversation actually figure out what we're gonna do for Valentine's Day?"

"Let's just...be together."

"Can do."

"Do you want something to drink?" she asks through a light laugh.

"Sure. I'll have whatever you're gonna have."

He watches her disappear into the kitchen, and his smile fades. The way they talk to each other and the things they talk about make him temporarily forget everything else. She has a knack for doing that, a knack that no one else in his life possesses. It's a comfort, but it can also be a distraction.

The sound of glass breaking upon the tile floor, followed by a low indistinguishable sound, shatters the silence of his thoughts. Slowly, he stands up.

"Keely?" he calls out, his voice wavering just the slightest bit. That bothers him almost as much as the response his doesn't get from her.

He wants to run into the kitchen, but his feet are heavy upon the carpet. He feels like he's pushing through deep ocean water, trying to break free from the strong current along the shore.

"Keely?" he asks in an unintentional whisper.

He can see the sparkling shards of glass scattered on the floor from where he stands. His mind screams at him in a panicked voice, telling him he should hurry, but the water's rising up to his chest, pushing against his ribcage, making him struggle for air, and weighing him down. And as he carefully rounds the corner and as the glass loudly crunches under his feet, he sees her lying on her side with her eyes closed.

And, finally, through a surge of adrenaline, he crashes onto the shore, free from the restraint of the waves. And, suddenly, the signs become painfully clear to him.

Signs really shouldn't be ignored. From the glaringly obvious to the partially obscure, signs are there for a reason. She knew that yesterday, but today, she knows it even better. After all, ignoring something is only possible until the confrontation.

This place is sterile and cold. Not like home. Not like where she wants to be.

The waiting room is carpeted, the walls are covered with abstract paintings in much-to-expensive frames, the chairs are cushioned and polished, the glass plate separating the receptionist from the patients is spotless. Various magazines rests on the corner tables and in the wooden shelf on the back wall. A small television set quietly plays a cartoon in the designated children's area tucked away from the rest of the room. Toys line the wall there, puzzles, books, and cars and trucks and dolls. A single child sits on the colorful alphabet rug, holding a ratty stuffed bear.

His face is pale. Like mine, she thinks. His mother sits in a chair a couple feet away from him and holds out a tissue, which he is stubbornly refusing to accept so she rises to her feet and wipes his nose herself, much to his dismay.

Down the row of chairs, an elderly couple sit quietly sharing a magazine. She watches them. The woman glances up at who Keely is certain must be her husband and silently questions if he is finished. He just simply looks at her and the woman flips to the next page. The unspoken communication between them brings a small smile to Keely's face.

Turning her head to her right, she sees a girl with long black hair, probably her own age, maybe a year or two younger. She sits with an older man, most likely her grandfather judging from his gray hair and wrinkled face. She looks nervous. She keeps twisting her fingers in her hands, picking at her nails, and shuffling her feet. Her eyes dart around the room, never resting upon any one thing for very long. The man next to her doesn't appear to be nervous. He keeps smiling at the girl, reassuringly, but she doesn't return the gesture.

Keely glances over at her mom. She doesn't look nervous either. She looks upset, and that's understandable. Glancing down at her lap, she tries to ignore the sharp pang of guilt, but to no avail; instead, her mind wanders to the events that lead to this moment.

When she regained consciousness, she saw his concerned, fear-stricken face hovering over hers. He had the phone in his hand, finger at the ready, but she had opened her eyes quickly after closing them.

She tried to stand up, but he insisted she sit. He asked for her mom's cell number, but she wouldn't give it to him. He refused to accept that and threatened to dial for emergency assistance if she didn't comply with his request. To avoid an unnecessary scene, she took the phone from his hand and called her mom herself.

She must have sprouted wings and flown back home. And the look on her face, the worry in her voice, and her reaction after finally hearing the truth, Keely will never forget. And the anger that came then.. She had never seen her mom like that.

And Phil. He was hurt by her lies, the fact that she felt hiding the truth was better, the fact that she couldn't tell him, confide in him. It hurt him, but then there was concern and confusion and then fear. Her apology was weak, but he accepted it. His worry took priority over her dishonesty. She eventually convinced him to leave, that she would be fine, and that the next day she would be at the doctor's office first thing in the morning.

He left her with a warm hug, a soft kiss, and a gentle demand for her to call him as soon as possible.

Now she sits patiently waiting for the wave of the nurse's hand through the small window in the door leading to the examination rooms. Here she sits in her guilt and anxiety. Here she sits.

"Keely Teslow?"

The soft voice is accompanied by the familiar wave. Her mom rises to her feet as she straightens her jacket and takes a deep breath. Keely slowly joins her and follows a few feet behind as they make their way down the long stretch of tiled hallway with the click of her mom's heels echoing off the bare white walls.

"Dr. Ahrens will be with you shortly."

The door closes, and her mom sits in the blue plastic chair, keeping her eyes focused on the chair that her daughter will sit upon momentarily. Keely remains standing, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, wanting to say something to her mom, something confidently reassuring, but nothing comes to mind.

A face, a warm caring face, enters the small room. She feels slightly more at ease at the sight of the face she's known for years, since her first trip to the doctor's office when she was a young child.

"Good morning, Keely," he says with a friendly smile. "Mandy," he adds with a nod to her mom.

"Good morning, Gerald."

He places his clipboard on the counter and points to the examination chair, and Keely, hesitantly, lifts herself up onto it.

"How are you feeling today, Keely?"

"Fine."

"Honestly?" he asks in a kind voice.

"I'm just really tired and..."

"A little shaken?" he offers understandingly. "Your mom and I spoke on the phone earlier this morning. She told me what happened yesterday." Keely nods and he smiles again. "Well, shaken is a nice, normal reaction. Anyone would be as much."

She feels even more at ease. Glancing over at her mom, she realizes their trusted doctor and good friend is having the same effect on her. Thankfully.

"You've been feeling unusually fatigued for a while now?" he asks as he places the thermometer in her ear.

"Yeah," she replies quietly, avoiding her mother's eyes.

The thermometer beeps, and he removes it. He makes a quick note on his clipboard, and in typical doctor fashion, doesn't comment on the reading. Keely's always found that slightly irritating. It's her body temperature; she should be the first to know what it is.

"How long where you unconscious?" he asks feeling along her throat.

"Uh...just for about a minute."

"Has anything like that happened before?" he asks looking into her eyes.

She nods. "But yesterday was the first time I actually passed out."

"But you've felt faint on more than one occasion?"

"A few times."

"How long ago was the first time?"

She shrugs. "I guess..a couple weeks ago."

He looks at her for a moment. She knows what he's thinking. Why didn't you say something about it to your mother? Like a scolded child, she lowers her head to stare at her lap. But he doesn't berate her.

"Have you noticed any unintentional weight loss recently?" he asks returning to his clipboard.

"Well..my clothes don't really fit like they used to."

"Poor appetite?"

"Yeah."

He makes a few other notes and slips his stethoscope from around his neck. Placing it to her chest, he says, "Breath in deep for me." He listens and then moves the stethoscope to her back. "And again." He returns to his clipboard. Keely watches him closely, trying to get a read from his expression, but it's blank.

"Have you been experiencing several headaches, unexplained body aches, or chills?" he asks turning back to her.

"All the above."

He nods and gently touches her arm. "How'd you get this?"

She looks down at the purple spot on her skin. "I'm not sure."

"You play sports?"

She shakes her head.

"Maybe you bumped against something?"

She shrugs. "Maybe."

"Do you have any other bruises that you're not sure how you could have gotten?"

"Um...a few..yeah." He makes another note on his clipboard and Keely asks, "What does that mean?"

"It could mean several things. Bruising easily is an indication of many different conditions."

"Conditions?" her mom asks.

"Well, we won't know anything for sure until we draw some blood," he says picking up his clipboard. "But...according to the signs, I'd have to say that what we're dealing with here is Anemia or something of that nature. Thyroid irregularities, perhaps. Could be something hormonal," he says with a nod of his head. "However, it could be a symptom of an underlying cause."

"You mean...I might have something else too?"

"Your symptoms might be part of a bigger problem, Keely."

"Like what?"

He gives her a light pat on the shoulder. "I'll have the nurse come in and take some blood, and then in a little while, we'll have some answers. All right?" he says in a gentle voice.

"All right," she whispers.

For quite some time, Keely and her mom sit in the waiting room out front once again, flipping through magazines, trying to keep their minds occupied, trying to keep them from wandering into dangerous territory.

And then, the soft voice and the wave of the hand indicates their need to return to the same small examination room. But this time, Dr. Ahrens is waiting for them.

They take their seats. He takes his. The nurse closes the door to give them privacy, and he begins to speak.

"There are some anomalies in your blood work, Keely."

Doctors tell the facts the way they are, whether they are good or bad. Most doctors do, but a man who is close to a family, who doesn't look at them as just patients, names on a sheet of paper, he tells the facts the way they are with compassion.

He speaks as compassionately as a man in his position can. His educated, professional speech is exhaustively hard to keep up with, but he manages to make things relatively understandable for her sake. Anomalies. She got the message behind that word loud and clear. So did her mom, apparently, since she reaches over and places a comforting hand on her knee.

He rattles off a list of said anomalies, none of which mean anything to her. He tries to explain them, but she finds herself just nodding her head automatically.

White blood cells, red blood cells. High numbers, low numbers. Fever. Infection. Presence of a pathogen. Immune system. Anemic symptoms. Just symptoms. Not Anemia. Something else. Maybe something serious. More tests are needed. More blood work. Scans and samples too.

And they need to be done immediately. Today. Without further delay.

"Gerald...what's wrong with my daughter?"

Keely's pulse quickens, her throat constricts, and her fingers go numb from the pressure of the deadly grip she has on the arms of the chair she sits in. He raises his head from reading the notes on his clipboard to look at her mom first, then to her.

He speaks just a few words, but with those few words, her whole world changes.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Her reaction wasn't what she had expected. Her world changed, but not with a bang. The shock wasn't explosive. The emotional buildup, the fearful anticipation, the clenching of her jaw, the digging of her nails into the chair arms, all that had led to the destruction of life as she knew it had fizzled into cold, still emptiness as if the turmoil had never existed and as if the words he had spoken hadn't really changed everything.

The emptiness gave her a false sense of security for a few minutes, a few minutes filled with a strange, almost surreal, tranquility. The feeling wasn't comfortable, though, and she wished for it to be gone, but when reality finally hit, she wished for it to return. But it didn't, and when the pseudo-peaceful state had vanished, a staggering sense of despair engulfed her.

The doctor had left her and her mom alone in the small room. Her mom held her tenderly as only a mother can and whispered words of encouragement. Keely wasn't sure who they were meant for, but she hadn't cared. Her mom's eyes had watered with tears, but her own eyes had remained dry. The despair had set in heavily like stone, and she had become completely numb.

Until they had left for the hospital. As they had pulled onto the street running adjacent to the huge parking lot, she had thought it was funny how quickly she had jumped from one state of mind to the next. Dr. Ahrens had mentioned something about emotional stages she'd likely experience, but she hadn't expected to experience those stages over a span of two hours.

It was ridiculous to her, so much in fact that she had laughed out loud in the car. Her mom had swerved sharply and glanced over at her with a worried expression. Her reaction had resulted in a quick sobering effect on Keely. She had muttered an apology and resumed quietly looking out the window.

By the time they had parked the car, entered the double doors, and her mom had received some directions from the young woman at the front desk, Keely was beginning to feel more normal, at least as normal as she could feel given her situation.

First on the agenda was more tests.

These tests are ordered by a different doctor, not her doctor, not the friendly-faced man she's known practically her entire life. No, this doctor is a specialist. And what a general practitioner can't pinpoint, a specialist certainly can and will and with more detail than a person can properly stomach.

After paperwork and explanations, her new doctor leaves and a nurse takes command. First, she draws more blood. Then, she ushers Keely into a lab, a cold fluorescent-lighted room where she has to squint her eyes against the brightness.

"I'm going to do what's called an aspiration," she says as she expertly moves from one piece of equipment to the other. "First, you'll need to put that gown on."

Keely glances over at the unsightly garment folded on a chair. The nurse points to a curtain in the corner of the room. "You can change there."

The fabric is scratchy against her skin, and she feels extremely exposed in the light-weight, drafty material. The nurse instructs her to recline on the bed. As she lowers herself to the thin, firm mattress, she catches something out of the corner of her eye and she swallows nervously.

"Um...that's..."

"The longest, biggest needle you've ever seen?" the nurse jokes lightly.

"Have you...I don't mean to sound...I just..."

The nurse smiles understandingly. "I've been a hematologist for many years."

"Ok..well..I don't know what that is so...I'll just have to take your word for it."

With a chuckle, the nurse prepares the anesthetic. "Don't worry. It doesn't hurt nearly as much as it looks like it will."

"It looks like it'll hurt a heck of a whole lot."

"You'll feel a sting, but it won't last long. There will be some discomfort and some pressure, maybe a little pain in your leg, but it'll be over quickly." She pauses at the side of the bed. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah," Keely breathes out in reply.

"You're going to have to lie completely still, all right?"

She nods.

"First, I'm going to clean the area," she says rubbing a solution over the spot on Keely's hip where the needle will enter. It's cool against her skin, and she has to fight to not move.

As the long needle penetrates the skin covering her hip bone, she feels the sting. The syringe withdraws some fluid. Brief pain, just a sting and a little discomfort, but she still had her eyes tightly closed and her lip clenched between her teeth the whole time.

After that, there is another lab with an X-ray machine looking for infections, and then an ultrasound taking an internal peep. Those tests are a breeze, totally painless.

Then, she and her mom wait again. In another room, but in the same cushioned chairs. She feels weak and tired and her hip hurts, and she's a little scared, but she's too exhausted to feel much of anything else. And, of course, her mother is terrified, though she retains her composure. She keeps her head held high.

Hours later, the new doctor returns with the news, the bad news. The tests have confirmed what they all ready knew. The results are preliminary, but that doesn't make them any less real. Well, she will come to know this new doctor, her oncologist Dr. Richardson, very well.

There is a mountain of paperwork for her mom and for herself. Signature after signature after signature and then a lengthy discussion, which she abstains from, follows all the ink-work. She rests her tired body in the plush chair, hugging herself tightly from the chill of the room, just willing the echoing voices to disappear. But they don't.

Eventually, the details are hashed out, and they are leaving. The drive home is silent and tense and emotionally charged and seemingly endless, but the drive could last throughout the night for all she cares.

It could last an eternity.

But it doesn't.

Inside the warm house where she normally feels completely comfortable, she doesn't feel anything but the cold. The cold like she felt in the waiting room and in the lab. It's on her skin and underneath it. She can feel its icy grip slowly tightening. She shivers and her mom encourages her to lie down on the couch with a blanket. She'll get her whatever she needs.

What does she need? What could she possibly need right now? Her mom begins to pace the floor and flutter about the room, distractedly adjusting various objects, repositioning pictures hanging on the wall, fluffing the cushions, swiping at the dusty leaves of the large plant sitting on the floor, knocking the dried brown leaves to the carpet.

What does she need? She knows what she wishes. She wishes for her mom to go away. Or least sit down and keep still.

"Mom?"

"Yes, sweetheart," she replies quickly coming to her side, banging her knee against the corner of the coffee table in the process. "Oh, shoot!"

Keely watches her jump around, holding her kneecap, and she laughs. Her mom stops and looks at her with a confused expression.

Sitting up and covering her lap with the blanket, she asks, "Are you ok, Mom?"

She slowly makes her way over to the couch and sits down beside her daughter. "Uh huh," she says with a small smile of embarrassment. "What did you want, sweetheart?"

"This."

Her mom furrows her brow. Keely leans back and props her feet up on the coffee table. She drapes the other end of the blanket over her mom's legs.

"Just this."

"Are you sure you don't need anything? Water? A snack? Another blanket?"

"Mom..."

She shakes her head. "I know. I'm sorry." She sighs and leans back against the cushions. "How do you feel, Keely?"

"Right now...I feel fine."

"You mean that?"

"Yeah, I mean it."

"Good." She pats her leg. "We're going to get through this," she says with a firm nod of her head.

Keely takes her hand. "We are."

Her mom smiles as her free hand smooths out the bumps in the soft fleece blanket. "Remember when I got this for you?"

"Yeah, it was for Christmas." She nudges her mom's shoulder. "I wanted a bicycle."

"Yes," her mom says with a laugh, "You had made that very clear."

Gazing down at the yellow blanket, Keely replies, "I was _so_ mad at you. You know, I don't remember what happened to that bike I got the next year, but this," she says picking at the material, "I've always known just where to find it."

"You used to drag this thing all around the house and outside in the mud and down the sidewalk through who knows what," she says with another laugh. "It's getting pretty raggedy."

Keely frowns. "It's not raggedy. It's just been...well-loved." Fingering the frayed edges, she giggles. "Ok, maybe it's a little raggedy." She hugs it to her. "But I couldn't ever imagine being without it."

The phone rings, and her mom smiles. "Speaking of..." She pats Keely's leg and rises to answer it.

"Speaking of what?" Keely asks as her mom picks up the cordless.

"Hello? Yes. She's right here. Uh huh." Handing the phone to her daughter, she whispers, "I'll be in the kitchen."

She doesn't have to ask who it is. During all the chaos of the day, and the quiet relaxation of the last few moments, she forgot her promise. But, of course, he didn't.

His voice on the other end sounds light, but she can detect the hint of apprehension. They make small talk, neither one of them really knowing how to begin the conversation. But she doesn't want to tell him the news over the phone. He deserves to hear it face-to-face. And, plus, she just realized upon hearing his voice, there is something she needs.

She asks him to come over, and he is there at the door within minutes and slightly out of breath. That makes her smile.

He stands in the doorway, gazing at her. The day has been so long, just dragging by. School was horribly hard to sit through, classes were dull and lifeless, lectures fell on deaf ears, and times in between left him feeling lonely and nervous. He ate lunch with their friends, none of them every speaking about her or the reason for her absence. He walked home alone, sat in his room alone, finished his homework alone, and waited. The wait was nearly unbearable and agonizingly slow.

And he worried. It was getting late and he hadn't heard from her. How long should a doctor's visit last? Then he worried maybe she didn't want to call. Or maybe she just forgot to call. But then that would mean something must have happened to make her forget. Something of greater importance. But, he waited. And waited. Until waiting was no longer an option as the few remaining ounces of strength he had which physically restrained him from picking up the phone and running to her house completely disappeared.

With every bit of energy left within him, he gently takes her into his arms. It's a quiet desperation to have her near him. He doesn't know where it comes from, but he doesn't care.

After a few minutes, she pulls away. "Do you want to come inside, or just stand in the doorway?"

He smiles. "Inside."

She sits on the couch and pats the space next to her. "Wanna snuggle?"

He slips under the blanket, and she takes him by the hand. She gazes at their fingers laced together so tightly. She can feel the prickling of tears in her eyes, but she blinks them back before they form.

"So..what'd I miss today?"

"Um..the usual."

At least something in her life is the way she left it. "Pretty much nothing?"

"Yeah, that's about right. Oh, but Via and Owen didn't have a single argument today," he says rather proudly.

"Wow..."

He adds in a quiet voice, glancing down at their hands, "I think she was too worried about you to fight with him." She doesn't reply, and, cautiously, he turns his head to meet her eyes, but she quickly looks away. "Should she be worried?"

"No..."

"Is that a question or an answer?" he asks beginning to feel that familiar doubt about her honesty creep in.

"An answer."

The lack of hesitancy in her voice leads him to believe her despite his lingering uncertainty. If she'd look at him, he'd know, but she doesn't do that. Reading her signals is getting more and more difficult. It's frustrating, and he's slowly becoming hopeless as what to do about it gradually slips further from his grasp.

He sighs, a bit heavier than he intended. "So...what's the diagnosis?"

She shrugs, and that little gesture bothers him a great deal, but he doesn't quite understand why. "Uh just...some things aren't working exactly the way they should be...no big."

"I think things in your body not working implies big," he says. Normally, such a comment would be said with a hint of humor in his tone but not this time. Now, his words are tainted with seriousness and possibly even annoyance and maybe a little bit of anger. And he doesn't know where it all comes from, though it could be from the way she didn't elaborate upon the 'things' that aren't working quite right.

"But it's nothing to worry about," she says with a confidence in which he can't clearly recognize the sincerity of.

"You're...good then?"

She nods.

"Good." He forces the corner of his lips to turn upwards. "I'm happy." And relieved, he adds silently. "And I'm sure Via will be glad to have you back at school tomorrow, you know, since she was outnumbered today." He tries to lighten the mood, if not for her, for himself.

Tomorrow. What does she tell him now?

"Um...actually, I'm not gonna be at school tomorrow either."

"Why not?" he asks after a quiet pause.

She softly clears her throat. "Well, see...they ran some tests and want me to come in 'cause they, um, don't like to give results over the phone...so..."

"Oh. Ok." He asks as casually as possible, "What kind of tests?"

"Just some routine stuff," she says making such stuff seem insignificant. She scoffs lightly, "You know doctors..they really like their tests."

"Oh. Yeah. Sure."

Silence falls upon them. It's different than the other silences between them, the ones they fall in and out of with ease. This absence of sound rains down upon them in heavy sheets rather than sprinkling upon them like a gentle mist. The deluge threatens to push them apart. They both feel it, and they both instinctively move closer to each other on the couch until their bodies touch from shoulder to thigh, leaving not even the tiniest gap, leaving no space for the silence to seep through.

"Phil?" Her voice is almost childlike with trepidation.

"Yeah?" His voice just barely escapes his lips.

She wants to tell him, but she doesn't trust her ability to do that. Not yet. He's going to find out, eventually, and he's going to be disappointed and hurt, but, she will take that risk because, right now, she simply can't do anything else.

"What do you think...will happen to us?" she asks glancing at his face.

He wasn't expecting that. What he was expecting, he now assumes will not surface tonight. It will, eventually, but not tonight. And he'll let her handle things the way she wants to; it's her business, her life. No, he thinks, it's mine too. He hasn't been just Phil and she hasn't been just Keely in a long time. But, he gives her command over the situation because that's what he does. Since they fell in love, he hasn't been capable of doing anything else.

"What do you mean?"

"When our lives...start to change." He furrows his brow, and she shrugs, downplaying the significance behind her worry. "Like what's gonna happen to us after...Graduation."

"Nothing's gonna happen to us, Keel."

"Really?" she asks timidly.

He looks into her face, and the fear in her eyes is so real that he can feel it too. And it nearly breaks his heart. She's afraid, but why? Does she really think they won't be together within a few months time? That life after the shelter of high school will break them apart? It's ridiculous. They will be together. But still he wonders why she never asked him that question before...

He can feel the electrical charge from her anxiety traveling through her body, passing through her hand into his own. Answer her, his mind demands of him. Now. And with the strongest conviction he's felt in his entire life, he does.

"I promise."

The word is sweeter than any music she's ever heard. The joyful melody plays within her heart, and for the first time today, a genuine smile graces her features.

"Good...'cause..." She takes a breath to steady herself, hoping it'll trample down the quiver in her voice. "These last two years have been..." Her voice nearly cracks again, and the absurdity of it all brightens her smile. "The happiest of my life," she finishes with a light laugh laced with a breath of relief to have finally gotten her sentence out.

"We've got a lot more years together, Keel," he replies before softly and slowly pressing his lips to her forehead. "A whole lot," he adds as he pulls back to look into her eyes.

"I hope so." The doubt makes a slight, almost undetectable appearance again.

"Hey," he says in a low voice, gently leaning into her side, "I stayed in this century for you. I think that counts for something."

She chuckles. "You stayed in this century because your family did," she lightly corrects him.

He shrugs. "Well, that's true, but I recall your name," he says while giving her arm a soft poke with his finger for emphasis, "being mentioned _several _times during the 'should we stay or should we go' discussion."

She breathes a pleased sigh and tugs on the fleece blanket, pulling it closer to her chin. "I'm really glad you guys stayed here..." She frowns. "I don't think I ever said that to you."

"I kind of got the hint you felt that way when you planted that big wet one on me after I told you the news," he says with a grin.

She groans and briefly closes her eyes. "Don't remind me... That was so embarrassing."

"I'll never forget the look on your face," he replies while trying desperately to contain his laughter.

Leaning back slightly to look at him, she scoffs, "_My_ face? What about you...all deer-caught-in-headlights?"

"Well, my best friend kissed me, Keel," he says defensively. "It was kind of a shock." He smiles. "Albeit a very, very good shock."

She shrugs and rests her head on his shoulder. "It was kinda impulsive, I guess," she concedes.

"It was a great way to break the ice, though."

"Yeah, nothing was awkward after _that_."

"Whatever it was...I'm just glad you did it," he says giving her hand a tender squeeze. Not only was that first kiss amazing, it brought them together. Finally. And for that reason, they'll never share a more perfect kiss.

The quiet returns, but this time it's milder. She would have been more than content to remain by his side like that for the rest of the night, for the rest of her life, but her mom insinuates that she should get to sleep. Reluctantly, she says goodbye to him, letting the warmth of his hand slip away.

The expression on her mom's face speaks volumes. Her mom knows she didn't tell him the truth. And, from the way she doesn't press it, she also knows that time will come.

And that time will come soon.

The next morning is a rush of cars along the highway and people on the sidewalk; it doesn't leave much room for contemplation, thankfully. The entrance to the hospital is bustling with activity, and the waiting room is much too crowded. Until she became sick, she'd never realized how prominent sickness really is; it's everywhere. And the fact that she's not alone comforts her. That's selfish, she thinks, but it's true.

As they approach her new doctor's small office, her blood pumps through her veins at an astronomical rate. Her future is in that small office. How can such a tiny space tucked into hundreds of rooms and miles of corridors hold her fate? How can something so simple contain something so incomprehensible?

"Please, have a seat."

He's very polite, but he's also very unemotional. Detachment, she thinks. That's what they call it, right? She's heard that on TV on some nameless show about doctors.

"How are you feeling today, Keely?

She wonders if he's going to ask her that everyday he sees her from now on. She mentally sighs at the prospect and replies with a quick, to-the-point, "I'm all right."

"Is your hip bothering you at all?"

She shakes her head. "It's just a little sore."

He nods and looks down at his desktop. "The results from your aspiration have come in," he says flipping through sheets of paper before glancing up at her. "Abnormal cells were detected in your bone marrow."

"What does that mean?" Keely asks tentatively.

"It means what we had expected, that the cells therein aren't functioning as they should. They're blocking the manufacture of normal cells, and the decreased red blood cell production is what has been causing the anemic symptoms." He shuffles through the stack of papers again. "The dominant leukemic cell presence in the bone marrow appears to be myeloblastic."

Off their blank expressions, he explains, "Knowing that helps us to determine the specific type of Leukemia you have."

"Is...one type worse than the others?" she asks carefully.

"Not necessarily," he replies shaking his head. "But by being aware of which type we're dealing with, we can better devise a prognosis and treatment plan."

"Prognosis. That's the part where you tell me how long I've got to live?" she asks trying to keep the emotion out of her voice as her mom looks down at the beige carpet.

He rises from the chair behind his desk and comes to sit next to her. His sudden change in tactic stirs up a mixture of feelings within her. Either he's softening his approach because she's young and scared out of her mind, or he's trying to find the most delicate way to devastate her. She wishes for the former.

"It's acute, Keely. It came upon you quickly and it will continue to progress rapidly," he says in a gentle voice.

Her mom inhales a sharp breath, but Keely doesn't make a sound. She doesn't even blink. Dr. Richardson sits up straighter in his chair, his compassion fades and is replaced by a cool, professional exterior.

"It's survivable. Honestly, due to the extent of the cellular damage that has all ready been inflicted, the odds are not overwhelmingly in favor of full recovery, but the chances are there. And they're good chances." He looks to her mom, whose face has been drained of all color. "And we are going to use every therapy at our disposal. I can assure you of that."

But assurances don't mean much when death is impending and highly probable. Keely unemotionally asks herself, do they?

He looks back to her. "It's going to be a long, hard road, and we need to take those first few steps as soon as possible. The timing is crucial."

Timing really is everything, she thinks. He was right.

Dr. Richardson rises to his feet. "You have an advantage here, Keely." She glances up at him, not anywhere near convinced of that. "Your overall health is great and that combined with your age and the fact that you are going to receive the best treatments we have to offer, leaves me with every reason to be optimistic."

He gives her a little smile. "And you should be too."

Doctors are straight-forward. They tell you the facts the way they are. But, she assumes, sometimes they probably paint the cold hard facts slightly more colorfully than they should, and the ones who do that because they think their patients are naive make the most terrible artists.

Moving back to his desk, he picks up a sheet of paper from the pile. "Fortunately, the X-rays and ultrasound show no signs of infections." He sets that aside and examines another sheet. "And your blood chemistry analysis has come back, which means we can begin planning your treatments."

"So..." She begins slowly, certain of the question on her mind, but not so certain of how to ask it. "What...what happens now?"

"Now we need to make arrangements for you to be admitted."

"When will she need to come back?" her mom asks.

"This week. Possibly in two or three days," he says while weighing the invisible options in his hands. "As soon as we are ready for you, Keely."

"And...how long will I have to stay here?"

"That all depends on the type and duration of the therapies you'll receive." He leans forward on his desk, resting his weight on his forearms. "I know you have many questions, Keely, and they will be answered in time. I guarantee it."

She nods her head. And the process begins.

The process makes today just as exhausting as yesterday, but pulling up to their house gives her a wonderful feeling of relief. Home. Finally, she's home after hours of doctor-speak and hospital-smells, she can begin to unwind. Or at least try.

But before she is even out of the car, she realizes that the time has come around.

Her mom glances back at her, and Keely can read her thoughts as clearly as if they would have been if she had spoken them. The time has come.

"Hello, Phil," she says with a smile as she unlocks the front door.

He rises from his position on the steps. "I was just waiting for Keely," he says almost apologetically.

Mandy waves him off. "That's fine, Phil." She looks over her shoulder at her daughter. "I'll just be inside."

The door closes and he turns to look at her. She places her hands in her jacket pockets and glances down at her feet. He slowly walks towards her.

He wonders why silence always seems to speak louder than sound. Maybe silence allows the unspoken to be heard. Maybe uttered words are just noise keeping the mind preoccupied, but silence is what the soul listens to. As he walks towards her, closely watching her face, he realizes the soul listens much better than the mind.

"I thought you'd be home sooner," he says, taking a quick glimpse at the twilight sky.

She nods. "Yeah, um...Phil..." She lifts her head to look into his eyes as he comes to stand only a few feet from her, though he feels far away. "There's something I need to tell you."

He knew she wasn't fine. She was never just fine. Blinking slowly, allowing his eyelids to linger closed for a moment, he curses himself for ever believing it, and for never pushing her to tell him the truth. But...he didn't want to know the truth then. He's not sure if he wants to know it now either.

She takes a deep breath and dives in. "I'm sick, Phil. Really sick."

He swallows the lump in his throat. "Sick with what?"

"I have..." She dived in too deeply, and now the water is much too far over her head. "I have Leukemia," she manges to say before taking another gulp of air.

He doesn't speak or move. She's not even sure if he still breathes. All of his thoughts seem to turn into vapor and drift into the night air.

"There's a..big..long..technical name for it, but I...pretty much only got the one part of it," she says glancing down at her feet, wishing he'd react in some way, any way.

After a long pause, he does. "That's uh..." He furrows his brow and lowers his head to look at the ground. He stuffs his hands into his pant pockets and clears his throat.

"Cancer," she offers quietly.

He nods, but doesn't look at her. "Yeah...th-that's it..."

"I take it people in the future don't get Leukemia."

Slowly, he shakes his head. "No...it was...um...cured.." He nearly stumbles over the word. "In..uh..20...something..." He sighs and looks at her with a frustrated frown upon his face. He should remember. Any other time, he would have. "I don't know," he says in annoyance.

"20-something...like not this year?" she asks in a small voice.

"No...I-I don't think so," he replies regretfully. He still can't remember. Why can't he remember? He sighs again and tries to clear his mind. "But, you're," he says slowly, "gonna be ok...right?"

Honestly, she doesn't know, but she hopes it's true. She desperately hopes it's true. "I'm gonna get really good treatment for it and uh...that should...work."

"People survive..." Once again, he stumbles. "It," he states, trying so hard to be sure.

"Yeah, you bet they do," she says trying to lighten her tone by giving him a weak smile.

She must be one of them. She has to be, or... He shakes his head to ward off those thoughts. "So...what do you..do now?"

"Right this moment now?" She asks reaching out to take his hand and leading him to the front steps. "I'm gonna sit here with you." She leans into his warmth, greedily absorbing his body's heat. "And tomorrow..."

He glances over at her and whispers, "What's tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow will be...just tomorrow," she says, not knowing what else to say, and not having the strength to say it even if she did know.

His gaze lingers on her face for a few moments as she stares up at the scattered stars showing their first signs of life. The soft glow from the porch light isn't bright enough to reveal the multitude of emotions in her eyes, but he doesn't need to see them. He can feel them, and they nearly crush him into nothingness, into nonexistence. If not for the chasm of sadness that's been cut into his heart and the weight of her silent fearful grief, he knows he surely would cease to exist right now.

He looks up into the endless depths of the night sky, into the wide expanse of shining, sparkling light, and his mind is briefly cleared of the tumultuous thoughts. In the clarity, he remembers something.

Turning his head to glance at her again, he decides not to tell her. She doesn't need to know. Knowing is pointless; it won't help her. Of all the diseases, the cancers that people in this century suffer and die from that aren't found in the future, he thinks to himself, out of all of them...she has to have this one...

The one he couldn't remember... when the cure was discovered...

Because it never was.

As the chasm deepens, he just slides his hand from hers, wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulls her close again, and gazes back up into the sky.


	4. Chapter 4

Wow, that must have been the longest period of time between updates for me ever.

Chapter Four

It's strange.

Yesterday, she went to school but not to class. Her mom went with her, and they made arrangements to help keep her apprised of her studies during the lengthy leave of absence she was about to take.

And today is another school day but upon waking this morning, she didn't spend two hours getting dressed. She didn't try on outfit after outfit, or sit in front of the mirror to put on her makeup, or rush to complete some leftover homework before leaving the house.

Instead, she showered, dressed, packed a duffel bag, ate a light breakfast as per her doctor's orders, and rode with her mom to the hospital.

After a check-in and her mom's persistent 'are you ok' questions and her continuous 'let me help with that' demands, Keely finally had the room all to herself. But what now?

She looks around. It's too empty. The bed sheets are perfectly tucked into place, her pillow is firm and crisp, the armchair looks comfy enough for visitors, the small table beside the bed has a lamp on it, there is a closet for her to store her belongings, and there is a compact television set in the corner of the room, a private bathroom with a shower, but it's still empty.

Frowning, she turns to see the light blue gown that's been laid out for her. Great, she thinks. She'll certainly look hot in that getup.

"You don't have to wear that."

She turns to the sound of the kind, unfamiliar voice to see a short, much shorter than herself, plump middle-aged woman with sandy blond hair tied up into a neat bun. She doesn't wear the same scrubs as the other nurses; her shirt has a rather loud, colorful Hawaiian print on it.

"Do you have something more comfortable you'd like to put on?" She shakes her head before Keely can answer. "Never mind. Of course you have something more comfortable," she says with a smile. "A potato sack would be like the finest silk compared to those awful things."

Keely smiles, feeling quite at ease with this stranger. "I can wear my pajamas?"

"Whatever you wish," the nurse replies with kind eyes.

"Thanks."

"I'm not giving you permission." She smiles and moves to the counter. "Just a bit of information I like to share with the new patients." She turns back to her. "I'm Dee." Pointing to her name tag, she shrugs. "Well, Deandra actually, but nobody except my mother ever called me that."

"Keely."

"Such a pretty name," she says with a sigh. "Well, I suppose we'll be seeing a lot of each other. Just so you know, you're welcome to ask me anything or talk to me about anything or you're just as welcome to ignore me. It's really up to you."

"Ok."

Dee steps forward, decreasing the distance between them. "You're nervous, huh?" she asks in a soft tone.

"Yeah..this is all...really new to me."

"Well," she replies with a grin, "once you get the hang of things, that'll change." She glances around at the room. "I know it ain't much, but this place'll grow on you and...you weren't talking about the room, were ya?" She shakes her head. "My apologies, Keely."

"It's ok," she replies with a shrug. "I guess I'll get used to the other thing too."

Dee nods and points to the counter where an array of items rest. "Bet you're just itchin' to know about these little guys."

Keely follows her over to the small sink. "Pills," she states evenly.

"These pills are gonna do you right. They'll fast become your new best friends." She points her finger at the first two pills in the clear plastic cup. "These pretty little blue ones will take away any aches and pains you may have, should they get bad enough, and this," she says indicating the next cup, "yellow one is for any nausea you may feel from the chemo, and of course," she says holding up the last cup containing a single two-toned green capsule, "we have the very important antibiotic."

"Yeah," Keely says slowly, "Dr. Richardson explained the need for the medication." She furrows her brow. "I think I got most of it."

"It can be a bit mind-boggling, I know."

Keely stares at the tray. Mind-boggling doesn't even begin to describe all this. She doesn't care much about it anyway, as far as she's concerned, the less she understands, the better off she'll be.

"Oh, that reminds me." Dee says looking at the cup in her hand before glancing up at Keely. "Your boyfriend's at school, right?"

Raising her eyebrows, she asks, "Excuse me?"

Dee simply waits for her reply.

"Um..how did you know that I have a boyfriend?" she asks carefully, now feeling more confused than surprised.

"Leap of faith," Dee answers with a mysterious smile which only deepens Keely's confusion. "I suppose you'll have to relay the message to him for me." She chuckles. "Though I do take pleasure in giving the boyfriends a stern lecture."

"Huh?"

"Your treatment's, unfortunately, gonna leave you vulnerable to infection, and while the antibiotic will help keep bacteria to a minimum..." She playfully shakes her finger. "If that boy comes in here with so much as a sniffle, you send him away. Got that?"

Keely nods dutifully.

"So no swappin' spit unless his spit's relatively clean," she adds with a wink before turning back to her tray.

Keely is surprised at her own reaction. Normally, she'd probably be embarrassed, especially with something like that coming from a stranger, but with Dee, she feels like laughing and not hiding the blush on her cheeks.

"So today," she says holding out the cup containing the green pill and a cup of water, "we get you started with this."

Keely takes the pill from the cup and briefly stares at it before quickly popping it into her mouth.

"Well, I've gotta scoot on down the line, but," Dee says, taking the cup of water from Keely, "do you have any questions before I go?"

She still has about a million even though Dr. Richardson has all ready thoroughly answered many of her questions, but she doesn't even know where to begin. "I guess I'm good for now."

"Ok, well, if one comes to ya, just holler." She shakes her head. "No, don't do that." She gestures to the call button near the bed. "Better use that instead."

"Oh, yeah. Ok," Keely says nodding her head.

"You wouldn't believe the number of people who have actually hollered for me." Keely furrows her brow and Dee nods. "I know. It didn't make sense to me either." She gathers her things and moves to the door. "I'll see you later, Keely," she says with a smile before quickly exiting the room.

As interesting as that was, the near-stranger has managed to leave her feeling better than she has felt in days. She grabs her pajamas from her bag and heads into the bathroom to change. But no matter how much better she feels, she still ignores the sight of her reflection.

The last three days have been quite the rollercoaster ride; fear and sadness have come upon her at random moments but then a glimpse of normality and contentment will just as suddenly overcome her. The constant changing of emotions is draining to the point of complete exhaustion. And when that comes, all she really wants to do is cry.

The enormity of the situation and the endless onslaught of emotions she's never even felt before are almost too much to bear, but tears streaming down her face, sobs racking her body, they won't provide sufficient release. Crying uncontrollably is only going to make her feel worse. It'll make them, the two most important people in her life, feel worse too. So, to keep that from happening, she pretends the pain isn't there. And as long as she has that choice, that's the way things will be.

Besides, she thinks, she's not a little kid anymore. She's eighteen years old, and that's old enough to handle this without breaking down. Right? She hopes.

She finishes changing her clothes and slowly walks back into the room. Her room now. She moves to the window and looks down at all the cars in the parking lot. All these people are here to visit someone, and she can't help but wonder, if the people they've come to visit are doing the same thing she is. Are they also afraid and pretending they're not?

Turning away from the window, she glances at the clock on the wall. She should be in class right now. She should be sitting at a desk in between Phil and Via. She should be doodling in her notebook, drawing little hearts around his name, while feigning interest in the lecture. She should be daydreaming about how they'll spend their weekend together while he tries to warn her that the teacher is approaching her desk. She should be glancing over at him as the teacher asks her a question about the lecture she wasn't paying a bit of attention to. She should be trying to decipher his clues as to what the answer is.

But she's here. Alone. Her mom is at work, and her boyfriend and her best friends are at school...and she's here.

Her treatment doesn't begin until tomorrow. She didn't understand the need to be admitted today, but she figured she wasn't anyone to question what the doctor had ordered. He had said he wanted her to become comfortable with the hospital and the staff that would be taking care of her. She supposes that's as good a reason as any.

That's tomorrow. Today, she's alone. And bored. The hours pass by slowly, and with each one, she can perfectly imagine exactly what she would be doing if she was where she should be. But imagining that only makes her feel more alone, so she settles on watching some mindless talk shows on TV to keep herself occupied until about half an hour after the last bell rings.

"Keely?"

Her face brightens, and her mood, as she quickly mutes the sound and sits up. "Via!"

She looks around the room. "I can't believe I beat him here."

Keely laughs. "How was he today?"

Taking a seat upon the armchair next to the bed, Via smiles. "Phil-ish."

"Good," she replies with a nod of her head. "As he should be."

"Of course."

"So, tell me. I just gotta know," she says eagerly. "What's the verdict for Prom theme?"

In her excitement to learn the outcome of the ongoing debate, she forgets about the likelihood that she won't be attending that particular event. She spent a great deal of time dwelling upon the subject last night in fact, and she figured she would either still be in the hospital receiving treatments or she might be at home. Or something else may happen between now and then. Three months is a long time...

But right now, she's focused on what was one of the most important parts of her life before those parts were involuntarily re-prioritized.

Via rolls her eyes. "The jury's still out on that one I'm afraid."

"What happened?"

"The class is still divided and neither side is willing to compromise."

"Didn't you guys take a vote?"

"The results weren't helpful since some people chose not to participate." She sighs. "And, keeping in accordance with the rules, the committee isn't allowed to make a final decision until _all _Senior class member votes are accounted for."

Keely scoffs. "That's such a lame rule."

"I agree. And to make matters worse, the ballot now has two write-ins."

"They can do that?"

"They did do that."

"So what are they?"

Via winces. "Cinderella's Ball..ugh..and Gangster's Paradise."

Keely furrows her brow. "That last one sounds like Owen."

"Don't worry, I am in the process of persuading him to withdraw his motion."

"And how are you doing that, Via?" she asks with a sly smile.

"With the _other_ thing he constantly thinks about, Keely," she replies in disgust.

"Lemme see...if not girl-related..." She snaps her fingers. "Food."

"I picked up five large bags of classic potato chips on my way over here."

"That'll do it." Via silently agrees. "So, what else happened today?"

"You sound bored, Keely."

"You have _no_ idea."

Via sighs. "Well, I don't have any gossip to divulge, but you might be interested to know who was chosen to help you keep up with your homework."

Keely grimaces as the worst possible candidate comes to mind. "Who?" she asks cautiously.

"He nearly turned over his desk in his zeal to volunteer."

She bites down on her lip as she pictures various faces of her classmates. "Ok...so either this mystery person really likes me...or he just doesn't have a life."

Via laughs. "Both, actually."

"Both?"

"The first one...definitely, but the second..." she says with a smile, "it's only a recent development."

"And now I'm scared..."

"It's Phil."

"Really?"

"Who else?"

She grins, perfectly pleased with the fact that her favorite study buddy was selected.

"You did have two nerds..attempt..to volunteer, but the glare Phil gave them very effectively pinned them to their seats."

With the grin still plastered onto her face, she glances at the clock again. "I wonder where he is," she says in a quiet voice as her grin disappears.

"He'll be here, Keely," she offers reassuringly.

"I just miss him," she replies in a small voice. "I'm so used to seeing him everyday." She sighs. "You probably think I'm stupid..missing my boyfriend after only one day apart."

Via chuckles softly. "I don't think that at all, Keely. He misses you too."

The smiles returns.

"So, how are you feeling?"

"Pretty good considering..." She laughs. "Actually, everything seems kinda the same, you know, normal except for...well..."

Via understands; she doesn't need to hear it from her. "I hate to leave so soon, but I should get home," she says as she rises to her feet. "I've a ton of studying to do."

"I'm really glad you came by."

"That's good since I plan to make it a routine thing." She bends down and gives her a quick hug. "Take care of yourself."

"Yes, Mom," she replies dryly while hitting the mute button on the remote.

Via narrows her eyes at her best friend before exiting the room. Outside in the hallway, she is surprised to see a familiar sight.

"Owen?"

He spins around to face her. "Uh...hey Via."

She notices the bouquet of flowers he holds to his chest and she smiles. "That's very thoughtful of you."

He glances down at the pink and yellow carnations. "Yeah, uh..." He shrugs. "I wasn't sure...ya know..."

"She's alone right now if you want to go in."

He bites down on his lip.

"You've decided against doing that," she says in a understanding voice.

He nods. "Thought I'd just leave these with the nurses down the hall," he says gesturing in that direction. "They'll get 'em to her, right?"

"Yes, I'm sure they will do that," she says stepping towards him, "but I think Keely would rather _you_ give them to her."

"Yeaaah, I'm sure that I'm just the person she wants to see."

"Owen," Via demands, "go in there and give her those flowers."

He looks at the door to her room. "Is she..."

"She's just Keely, Owen. She was sitting up in her bed watching The Simpsons when I left."

"Really?" he asks eagerly. "The Simpsons are awesome!"

She chuckles and moves by him. "See you at school tomorrow."

"Thanks, Via," he says sincerely.

The tone of his voice surprises her, and she glances over her shoulder at him, raising her eyebrow. He shrugs. "What?"

Quickly she replies, "Nothing." She looks at him for a moment, standing in front of the door with the flowers in his hand, and an odd feeling overcomes her. But he gives her a goofy goodbye wave and knocks on the door, and she shakes her head to erase the feeling and slowly walks away.

A muffled voice signals his invitation to enter. Carefully, he sticks his head into the room. "Hey there, Keely."

She smiles. "Owen..what a nice surprise."

"Are you...being sarcastic? 'Cuz uh..sometimes I can't really tell about that..."

"I meant it."

"Cool." He walks to the bed and extends his arm. "Here ya go."

"You didn't have to bring me flowers," she says graciously accepting his gift.

"Well, that's what they always do on TV."

Keely glances up at him. "That's..that's very true."

"Ooh! I love this one!" he exclaims. "Can I...hmmm?" he asks gesturing to the armchair.

"Sure. Why not?"

He enthusiastically hops into the chair. "Homer totally trips out in this episode," he says with a laugh. "Hilarious, man. _Stroke of genius_." He points at the screen. "And the coyote...he rocks!" Suddenly, his face grows serious. "I so need a coyote like that."

Rolling her eyes, Keely places the flowers on the table next to her bed. She leans back against the pillows while Owen launches into a lively speech about every little aspect of the show. He laughs and grins like a kid at Christmas and imitates the voices of the characters, and Keely just watches him with a smile upon her face. Sometimes, everyone could use a little bit of Owen.

Downstairs sitting in an idling vehicle with a heavy chest and an even heavier head, Phil could definitely use just that.

"Honey, are you going to get out of the car?"

He shrugs and keeps staring out the window.

"I understand," she says with a smile, leaning towards him. "Twenty-first century hospitals make my skin crawl too." A weak smile forms on his face, but she frowns when he still doesn't exit the vehicle. "Phil, I know you must be feeling ver--"

"I'm all right," he says quickly and she raises her eyebrows. "I just...don't know what to say to her."

"Honey, just be yourself," she replies giving his shoulder a tender pat. "That's all she expects."

"Ok..."

"Do you want me to pick you up later?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know how long I'll be. I'll just walk."

She nods. "I'll see you at home then."

Slowly, he steps out onto the sidewalk and closes the door. His mom smiles at him, and the gesture makes him feel a tad better about the situation. He gives her a small wave as she drives off. Turning to face the looming structure, he exhales deeply and heads to the main entrance.

But his journey ends short of his destination. Despite his eagerness to see her, out of his need to calm his jitters before stepping foot into her room, he decides to loiter in the small room housing snack and soda machines. He sits at one of the gray plastic tables and munches on a candy bar.

He's stalling. It's a shameful tactic, but no one has to know. He'll go in that room. Eventually. And after several minutes tick off the clock, he finally does.

"Hey, it's about time you showed up," she says partly annoyed but happy to finally see him.

"Yeah...um..I got lost." For about an hour, he thinks.

"Oh."

"Flowers," he says abruptly. "Wow, those are...nice." He stuffs his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels. "Nice flowers, yeah."

"They're from Owen."

"I didn't know he was here."

"Yeah, he left a few minutes ago."

"And he brought flowers."

She furrows her brow. "What?"

"It's just..." he says with a shrug. "Was I... supposed to bring something too?"

"No, Phil, it's ok. You didn't have to br--"

"But maybe I should have, I mean, I didn't know tha--"

"Phil...it's not a big deal. Really."

He nods.

"You wanna sit down?"

"Is that ok?" he asks carefully.

"Is it ok if you sit down?" she asks slowly.

"Yeah."

"Ok with who?"

"I just meant...well it's...I don't want to..."

"To what?"

"Never mind," he finishes with a sigh.

"Phil...just sit down," she replies gesturing to the chair. "Please. That's what it's for, after all."

"Right. That's uh...clever of the hospital to put chairs in the rooms for...uh..." he says as he walks to the chair like he's stepping on eggshells.

"People to sit in?"

"Yes, that's it," he says as he finally takes his seat.

"Why are you being..."

"Why am I being what?"

"Never mind," she replies glancing down at her lap.

Phil quietly clears his throat and looks at the surroundings. "This is a nice room."

"Yeah, it's...all right," she replies unenthusiastically. "I really haven't been in here long enough to get a feel for it, but...I've been told that it'll grow on me."

"Well, it is kind of cozy in a way."

"Sure...in a sterile and impersonal kinda cozy way."

"Um..." He clasps his hands together and stares down at his feet. "I guess that didn't come out right."

"Phil..."

"I know. This isn't going too well, is it?" he asks lifting his head to look at her again.

"Not so much," she replies in a quiet voice.

"Keel, I just..." His eyes focus in on an object resting on the table on the other side of her. "Where'd you get those? I thought you threw your deck in the trash."

"Oh, that's my new deck that my mom got from the gift shop." She grins as she picks up the pack of cards. "They have little teddy bears wearing scrubs on them."

"Huh," he says scooting his chair closer to her bed. "But I thought you vowed to never play cards ever again."

"I did. She bought them for me.." she replies with a shrug. "Doesn't mean I'm gonna use them."

"Could be fun," he says with a smile playing on his lips.

"Fun?" she asks in disbelief.

"So Owen was crowned the winner of the 'KPOV Summer Games'..." He rolls his eyes. "It wasn't a big deal then and it shouldn't be now."

"No big deal? I was reigning champion, Phil."

"Keel...we'd only played the tournament once prior to last summer."

"But I won, didn't I? Besides, I invented the whole thing." She frowns. "And _Owen_ beat me."

"We were playing Go Fish, Keel. A four-year-old could have beat you or any of us. It's not a game of skill."

"There's strategy to it," she replies defiantly. "_And _memorization, which just so happens to be a skill, mister."

"Fine, ok...technically speaking...you may be right, but it's still pretty much just lucky guessing."

"Oh yeah? Future-boy-who-knows-everything...prove it," she says tossing the pack in his lap.

"Prove it?"

"Spaa-lit the deck!" she replies, giving the top of her yellow fleece blanket a good smack.

"Um..." he says trying to hide his smile. "Actually, Keel... we don't split the deck in Go Fish."

"You know what I mean, Phil Diffy," she replies, unimpressed with his humor. "Now get over here and I'll show you exactly what Go Fish is all about. _And_ why I deserve that title back."

"Oh..." he says placing a hand on his chest.

"What?"

"Deck of cards.." he says moving to sit on the edge of her bed. "A few bucks..." He sighs, still holding his hand over his heart. "Girl and cards reuniting after a six-month separation...priceless."

"Just deal," she replies flatly, despite the twitching at the corner of her lips.

For no less than three hours, Phil is subjected to one loss after another as Keely most certainly proves herself worthy of being champion once again; though, he still remains steadfast, much to her disappointment, in his belief that the game is based on nothing more than chance.

And as they continue to argue the finer points of the game, she begins to grow weary, even as she tries to hide it from him. But after he insists that she get into bed and get her rest, after he insists several times and then tries to gently coerce her into complying with his demands, and after she finally cracks under such gentle coercion, she allows him to gather the cards that have been scattered upon the floor from her showing of expertise in 52 Card Pickup as well as Go Fish.

She chuckles as he retrieves the cards. "I still can't believe you haven't seen that one. Do people in the future even have a sense of humor?"

From his place on the floor, he glances over his shoulder with a rather irritated expression on his face. "I guess that depends on your definition," he mutters.

And she laughs. "Oh, Phil," she teases, "you're still a super-genius even though you fell for it."

He smiles as he stands up and tosses the deck back onto the table. "Thank you for the acknowledgment."

As she shifts her position on the bed, she draws in a quick, sharp breath as a pain shoots through her side. Immediately, Phil is there, reaching out to gently grasp her by the shoulders.

"Are you ok?"

The pain subsides after a few seconds and she pushes herself back against the pillows, away from him. "I'm fine..just.." She takes a deep breath. "It just hurts sometimes."

"What hurts?"

She glances up at him and attempts to ignore the worry in his eyes. "Just...everything really," she replies with a shrug. "My whole body sometimes it..." Unable to withstand the weight of his gaze, she lowers her head. "The body aches are normal. It's ok. They're not too bad," she says in a quiet voice.

"Are you..."

"Yeah...I'm a little scared about tomorrow."

He sighs. "I wish there was something I could do to help you, Keel."

"Maybe there is," she replies meeting his eyes again.

"Anything. You name it."

Slipping under the blanket, she stretches out her hand, opening her palm to him. Without hesitation, he sits in the chair and slides his hand into the welcoming warmth, matching every contour perfectly.

As he watches her in the soft yellow glow from the bedside lamp, the minutes slowly fade into the night with ease, and as her breathing lulls into a deep rhythm, he carefully releases her hand. Before switching off the light, he pulls her fleece blanket up to her chest, snugly tucking her in.

And after placing a kiss to her cheek, he whispers, "Goodnight, Keely."

As he softly pulls the door closed, he hears a light shuffling sound behind him. He turns around to find a friendly, smiling face a few feet away.

"You must be the boyfriend."

"Um...are you talking to me, ma'am?" he asks though no one else is around. Taking a quick glance, he realizes that.

"Ma'am? Oh my, I haven't been addressed that way in a lifetime." She gives him a once-over and nods approvingly. "Such a polite young man, not like these little hoods you see runnin' around nowadays."

Phil only blinks in response.

"Well?" she asks a bit impatiently. "You do belong to that girl in there, don't you?" she asks pointing her pen at the door behind him.

"Uh...yeah..I think."

"You think? Shouldn't a person be sure of who they belong to?"

"I.. suppose they should," he replies slowly. Assuming people can really belong to someone, he thinks. "But uh..yes, I'm Keely's boyfriend," he adds as she taps her white sneaker against the tile a few times.

"Ahh.." she says with a smile. "Now see how you referred to yourself as something belonging to her and not refer to her as something belonging to you?"

"Um...yeah..."

"You're a smart boy," she says stepping forward and extending her hand. "Name's Dee."

"Phil," he answers with a shake.

"Good strong name. Pleasure to meet you, Phil."

"It's a pleasure to meet you too," he replies easily despite his confusion from just moments ago.

"She's a great girl."

Naturally, a smile, though small, forms. "Yeah, she is," he replies glancing back at the door.

"We're taking good care of her." He turns back to Dee. "Don't you worry about her tonight. She's gonna be just fine." She gestures down the hall. "Her mom arrived not too long ago, and she's gonna be stickin' around for a while."

He nods and she checks her watch.

"Well, they sure don't pay me the big bucks," she says sarcastically, "to stand around and chat with the visitors..." She raises her eyebrows at him. "Especially the ones hanging around after visiting hours for anyone excluding immediate family are over."

"I-I...just lost track of the time." He shakes his head. "It won't happen again."

"Well, if by some chance it _does _happen again..." she says with a wink. "My lips are sealed."

Phil grins appreciatively, and this time, the smile shines in his eyes. "Thanks."

"I'll see you tomorrow," she replies with a chuckle as she turns to leave.

He furrows his brow. "Wait...how'd you know th--"

"You belong to her, right?" she asks plainly as she looks back at him. He quickly nods, and Dee lifts her arms from her sides. "Then where else would you be?"

Nothing has ever made more sense to him. And, he imagines, nothing ever will.

"Have a good night, Phil," she says with a smile, but before she can turn to leave again, she holds up her hand. "Oh! Did she give you my message?"

"Uh..I..don't think so. No."

Briefly, she considers delivering the stern lecture, but decides against it when she checks her watch again. "Well, it's late," she says with a shrug. "I'll save it for another time."

And she's briskly walking down the hall before Phil can ask the question in his mind. And as he makes his way to the front exit, he doesn't understand why the sudden change in himself. He doesn't know why he's leaving the hospital in stark contrast to the way he entered it.

His steps are lighter.

And for no apparent reason at all, there is a smile on his face.


	5. Chapter 5

The song is a French folk song by Sarah Grames Clark (slight alterations though)

Chapter Five

He stands at the stove, stirring the boiling pot of penne. She watches him with a smile upon her face as he so intensely focuses on his task.

"You need an apron," she jokes.

Turning his head to glance her way, he smirks and points to an object on the counter top where she sits. "Just hand me the colander, Keel."

"Uh..."

Her eyes scan the various cooking utensils and dishes, and he barely manages to hold in his laughter as she struggles to decide upon which particular item would be the colander.

"The one with all the holes," he says, quickly looking back to his pot so that she doesn't see the grin on his face.

"Oh!" She proudly produces the correct answer. "Here you go."

"Thanks," he says taking it from her and setting it into the sink.

"Why is it that you know more about this stuff than me?" she asks as he returns to the stove.

"I dunno."

"And why's it called a colander? Why not...bowl-shaped...thingy...with holes?"

"Huh. You know something?" he asks switching off the burner and picking up the steaming pot. "Your names for things never leave any room for wondering."

"Duh."

He grins and pours the contents of the pot into the colander. "Ok..drain.." he says giving the pasta a good shake, "and dump..." he says transferring the food into a glass serving dish, "and...top with _home-made _sauce."

He steps back to admire his creation.

"Good work, Phil," Keely commends. "But..uh..I think you forgot to chop up the cilantro," she adds pointing at the leafy greens in the middle of the neat pile of sauce-covered pasta.

"Oh, no. That's garnish."

"Well then you forgot to chop up the garnish."

"No, Keel..it's for looks. You know...pleasing to the smell, taste, _and_ sight."

Nodding her head slowly as she catches on, she says, "Cool. You should have your own show."

"Not a bad idea..." Phil ponders. "The camera does love me after all."

Keely rolls her eyes and points to the platter next to the main course. "And heart-shaped bread sticks. I mean, come on, who does that?"

"Well...me apparently." He holds one up for closer inspection. "I don't know though, Keel, this one kinda looks like a pumpkin."

"It's the thought that counts."

"Molding dough into a heart is harder than you might think," he says a tad defensively.

"I think they're perfect," Keely replies sincerely.

He lifts the two dishes and carries them to the table while Keely grabs their drinks. "How's the appetite?" he asks scooping a mound of noodles onto her plate as she takes a seat.

"Pretty decent today, actually."

"Good. I'd hate to have to eat your share too."

She rolls her eyes. "Yeah, that would be such a tragedy." She raises her eyebrow as he fills a third plate. "Are you expecting someone else to join us?"

He shakes his head. "For your mom when she gets home." Keely chuckles, and Phil frowns. "I'm not doing what you think I'm doing." He takes the plate into the kitchen, covers it, and sticks it in the refrigerator.

"I wasn't thinking anything," she replies innocently.

Rejoining her at the table, he sighs and looks down at the meal they are about to enjoy. "Ready to dig in?"

She nods, and he moves to pick up his fork, but her hand on his wrist stills his movement. "Thank you for this, Phil."

"Making you dinner this?"

"Yeah...and for making things...seem normal again."

"You're welcome."

She smiles and takes the first bite from her plate. "Mmm...so good. It's too bad people in the future don't really cook. You're really great at it, Phil." She takes another bite. "Definitely getting better all the time."

"Yeah, I'm finding out that I'm good at a lot of things in this century."

With a shrug, she replies, "Well, maybe that's why you're here in this century and not in the next one."

He smiles and shakes his head. "That's not the reason, Keel."

They share a quiet moment of understanding, and then proceed to finish their dinner. By the time her mom arrives home, Phil is conveniently left to clean up the kitchen by himself.

"Hi, Phil," Mandy says with a bright smile as she tosses her keys on the table. "Ooh..something smells good."

With his hands currently in a sink full of soapy water, he glances over his shoulder at her. "We saved you some. It's in the fridge."

Her eyes light up as she hastily moves in that direction. "You cooked again, Phil? This is becoming a regular thing for you. I'm glad," she says with a wink as she uncovers the plate and lifts it to take a whiff from the aroma of the herbs and spices. "Ahh...heavenly." She gives him an appreciative grin as she pops the plate into the microwave. "You're becoming quite the chef, Phil."

"Thanks," he says as he rinses the last fork.

Mandy chuckles. "Well, I see the reason for my daughter's absence."

"Yeah, she's not big on clean-up duty."

"Is she upstairs?"

"Backyard."

"Oh..." She reaches into the cabinet for a glass. "You two have any plans for tonight?"

"This was pretty much it."

"Well, I don't want to keep you," she says with a smile. "I'm sure you'd like to get outside."

Phil nods and gestures to the microwave. "I hope you enjoy."

"Oh, I will. Don't you worry about that."

As he jogs into living room, in the opposite direction she expected, she calls out to his retreating form, "I thought you said Keely was in the backyard."

He briefly turns back to face her and smiles. "I need to get something first."

Picking up his jacket from off the back of the couch, he digs into the pocket and produces a small black box. He stuffs it into the back pocket of his jeans and grabs Keely's yellow fleece blanket before hurrying back through the kitchen, pausing long enough to wave at her mom, and out into the yard to where Keely sits on a cast iron bench near the wooden privacy fence.

Though she's not facing the house and can't see him come through the door, she knows the sound of his steps. She smiles and laughs quietly to herself. "Dinner _and_ doing the dishes," she says without turning around to look at him. "You're spoiling her, Phil. You know that, right?"

He doesn't reply so she glances over her shoulder. "Phil?" she asks with raised eyebrows as he walks towards her with the blanket draped over his head.

"What?" he asks taking a seat next to her. She glances at his fleece-covered head, and he shrugs. "Thought you might be cold."

"You look like a turtle," she says with a smile.

"Turtle? How do you get _that_ out of _this_?"

She points at his face and grins. "All I can see is your little head poking out."

"I have a little head?" he asks with a frown.

She replies reassuringly, "It's a good size for a head." She snickers. "But you still look like a turtle."

Phil raises the blanket up off his head and leans towards her. "Join the turtle-people, Keely," he says in a strange voice while crossing his eyes. "Come be our queen, and live with me in my protective shell of hard...er...soft fuzzy fleece."

With a playful shove and a giggle, she manages to keep him from engulfing her in the so-called protective shell. "I think you're getting weirder with age, ya know that?"

"Do you like it?" he asks with a boyish grin.

She laughs. "Yeah, I kinda do."

"Then weird is here to stay," he says with a firm nod as he scoots closer to her side and wraps the blanket over their shoulders.

They sit in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before Keely's giggles interrupt the peaceful moment. "Was that your impression of a turtle?"

"No, that was my impression of a turtle-_person_."

"Oh."

He shrugs. "Should one exist."

She nods. "They'd definitely be like that."

"I like to think so."

Keely begins to say something, but a sudden boom fills the night air. It's quickly followed by a burst of pink and red light. "What the...?"

"A little early," Phil mutters under his breath as he checks the time.

Another similar display lights up the sky. Keely shakes her head in disbelief. "Fireworks in February? Who's doing that?"

"Pim."

She furrows her brow as she glances over at him. "Why is she setting off fireworks?"

He smiles. "I called in a favor."

Keely's highly suspicious, and Phil decides to come clean. "Ok...I owe her twenty bucks." He shrugs. "At least she's not charging interest."

"Just twenty?"

"Yeah, you got the special discount."

She's surprised by that. As the sky show continues, Phil sighs and looks down at his lap. "She asked about you last night." Keely tears her gaze away from the colorful lights. "I think she'd say something but...well...you know Pim."

A louder boom breaks the mounting tension between them at the mention of the unmentionable. Phil gestures to the sky with a nod of his head. "That was it, I think." He gives her a small smile. "I was running a little low on funds when I ordered those off the Internet."

Keely shakes her head in awe. "I don't deserve you."

"You're probably right."

"Hey!" she exclaims with a rather rough shove against his shoulder.

"Oh, I was supposed to disagree, wasn't I?"

"Yeaahh."

"Mm-hmm," he replies, pulling her hand into his lap. "Well, this is no Scottish love festival but..."

She groans. "Let's not bring that up again."

He laughs, and Keely eyeballs him. "What?" he asks innocently.

"It was a disaster, remember? I thought I made that clear."

"It all worked out in the end, didn't it?" he asks hopefully.

"Yeah, in the end, you told me for the first time that you loved me, and I missed it," she replies with a pout.

"But then I whispered it in your _other_ ear. You know, the one without the temporary loss of hearing."

Keely rolls her eyes. "Yeah, it was everything I dreamed the moment would be when you finally said those three little words," she replies sarcastically. Phil frowns and she presses a quick kiss to his cheek. "But I'd do it all again."

"Me too."

As the ever-present thought in her mind claws its way back to the forefront of her consciousness, threatening to destroy her night that's supposed to be filled with happy thoughts only, she sighs heavily and glances down at his lap where his fingertips gently skip across the back of her hand.

And right now, she'd almost give anything to be 365 days in the past in a smog-laden, foul-smelling city in the midst of a horrendous date on the most romantic night of the year during a festival celebrating love. She would trade in not being able to go out due to medical risks for a Skyak trip to Scotland or any land in a heartbeat.

"I guess Valentine's Day has been messed up again."

"Keel..."

"Sorry, I don't mean to be such a downer."

"It's ok," he replies confidently. "I have the remedy for downer-ness."

"What's that?" she asks curiously.

"Um...a little song for the occasion maybe?"

"A song? Like...as in words that you sing?" she asks slowly.

"Yess...exactly like that."

"That _you _are going to sing?" she repeats, heavily emphasizing the pronoun.

He clears his throat and hums a little indistinct tune to warm up his vocal chords. Keely curiously awaits for him to begin.

"I want to send my dearest friend..." He nudges her with his shoulder. "A special valentine...with Xs and Os..." He kisses her cheek while wrapping his arms around her for a quick hug. She giggles as he pulls away.

"And hearts and bows..." He takes her hand and holds it to his chest. She can feel the warmth through his shirt radiating onto her skin. She can feel the strong vibration of his heartbeat.

"So she'll know that she's mine..." he sings in a low voice with a quirky smile upon his face. "And way up in the corner, too...I'll draw a little dove...then underneath...this message sweet..."

He leans forward and whispers, "To Keely..." He presses his lips to her hand. "With all my love."

She gazes at him in wonder, momentarily stunned into silence but completely moved by his heartfelt gesture.

"Ahem..." He softly clears his throat to break the quiet as he glances down at their joined hands, feeling the tiniest bit shy under her unwavering gaze. "Well, that's my song."

"That was..." She can't finish her sentence, fearing the integrity of her voice. A few tears spring forth and shine in her eyes.

He dares a glance at her and frowns when he catches a glimpse of that shine. "Supposed to cheer you up."

"No, it did," she quickly replies shaking her head. "It did. I'm just..."

Phil suddenly finds himself enveloped in a tight, almost needy hug which he eagerly returns without a moment's hesitation. But, much to his disappointment, she releases her hold on him.

Wiping away the tears before they can fall, she giggles softly at the absurdity of her over-emotional response. "Where'd you learn that anyway?" she asks trying to shift gears so that fresh tears shall not make an appearance.

"From my mom. I changed a few of the words...obviously."

"Aww..that's so sweet. She sang that to you when you were just little-boy-Phil."

"Yeah...and this morning."

She laughs and Phil is more than happy to hear the sound again. "Why didn't you sing it to me last year?"

"Are you kidding?" he chortles. "On our first Valentine's Day? Sing a little kid's song to the most beautiful girl in the world? With this voice?" he asks pointing to himself. He shakes his head before she can reply. "I don't think so."

"I like your voice, and you didn't have to impress me, remember?" He just shrugs, and Keely sighs lightly. "We must be really, really comfortable with each other. Not a lot of guys would make such a bold move."

"Well...we have been together almost two years now..."

"And we were really close before..."

"And we have kinda spent every waking hour together since we met..."

"You know what we are, don't you?" she asks turning to face him. "We're like those old couples you see on TV celebrating their 55th anniversary."

Phil smiles. "Yeah, before you know it, you'll be cleaning my dentures."

Though she laughs at his joke, a part of her takes it to heart and clings desperately to the hope that she'll make it that far. Instinctively, she cups his cheek and pulls him close. Her lips capture his before he can properly react; however, he's more than willing to be kissed by her, and when she breaks the contact to draw in a deep breath, he can't control the smile spreading across his face.

"Keely..." he says shaking his head in mock-disapproval.

"What?" she asks cautiously, wondering about his unusual reaction.

"Now what if I'm infected with some contagious organism..."

She smacks his knee. "Gimme a break, Phil."

"What would Nurse Dee have to say about that?"

"Well, Dee's not here...and if I wanna kiss my boyfriend..." she says in a slightly seductive tone. "That's my right."

"It sure is," he replies with a grin.

"You can say that again...but don't." He smiles and upon remembering something, he reaches behind his back. "What're you doing?"

"I think I'm sitting on something..." He pulls the small black box from his back pocket. "Huh. I wonder what this is..."

Keely's eyes instantly light up at the sight of what her girl-radar can only assume is of a jeweled nature, but she plays down her bubbling excitement. "Phil...you didn't have to get me anything. You've already done so much tonight."

"It's just a little thing really," he replies humbly as he offers the gift.

With all her calmness thrown out the window, she eagerly pries the lid off. And what she sees inside that little black box is enough to completely floor her. "Oh...Phil..." She glances up at him. "Where'd you find this?" she asks, disbelieving she's holding the very thing she thought she'd lost forever.

"My jacket pocket."

"It's been there this whole time?"

"I'd lost my jacket too."

"We spent thirty minutes on our hands and knees in the mud searching for this thing."

"I know."

"And I ruined my favorite jeans," she says with a frown as she remembers her despair upon realizing said jeans were soiled beyond the dry-cleaner's attempts to salvage them.

Phil raises his eyebrow. "Should I have gotten you new jeans instead?"

"No way," she says shaking her head. "This is way better than jeans."

"Really," he replies dryly, not believing her for even a second.

Keely winces. "Well...no. But those particular jeans are _so_ last season anyway."

"Oh yeah," he says feigning knowledge of seasonal fashion. "Of course."

She rolls her eyes and smiles down at the object in her hands. "I can't believe it. I just knew I'd lost it for good." She slips it on her finger and breathes a sigh of content, happy to have it in its rightful place once again.

Phil's eyes flick back and forth between her face and her finger. After a few seconds, unable to maintain his casual composure any longer, he asks, "Well, aren't you going to look at it?"

"I am looking at it, Phil," she says giving him a curious glance.

He shakes his head. "No, I mean _really_ look at it. You haven't seen it in months, come on, just take a good look to, you know, make up for lost time."

"Phil, I di--"

"_Keely_...look..at..the..ring. Please."

She blinks slowly and shrugs. "Fine, alright, I'll look at it...if that'll make you feel better."

"Thank you."

She closely examines the ring on her finger, the ring that he had purchased for her at last year's street fair, the ring that had apparently fell from her finger into his jacket which she had stolen from him and worn the entire afternoon. But she doesn't see anything out of the ordinary; the ring is exactly the way she remembered it.

"I don't get it," she says looking at him.

He sighs. "You gotta take it off and look."

"Why?"

"Keeelll.." he groans, "will you please just look on the underside?"

She does. On the back of the oval turquoise inlay, there is a tiny inscription engraved into the sterling silver.

When she doesn't say anything, Phil carefully asks, "Too much?"

"It's perfect," she answers after a beat. "It's better than perfect."

"Actually there's a little..." he says pointing at the ring, "scratch but, uh, some--"

"Phil. I love it."

But he continues on without ever acknowledging her comment. "--day I'll get you a different one, you know, maybe with a gold band and a big shiny diamond and--"

"Phil," she interrupts with a wide grin on her face, very much liking the sound of that. This time he pauses and looks at her. "It's all good."

"Well," he says with a shrug, "I just figured since we already did the tree thing..."

"Twice."

"Right." He smiles. "Sooo...better than last year?"

"Um..well..."

"Be honest, Keel. I can take it."

"Yes!" she excitedly exclaims almost before he can finish speaking.

He laughs, but she frowns. "What's wrong?"

"I didn't get the chance to get you anything...with everything that's been going on..."

"I got all I could ever want right here, Keel," he says lifting the blanket off their shoulders to cover both of their heads. "All I'll ever need."

Once again the stubborn tears fill her eyes. Phil leans close to her, and her mind recalls a similar yet vastly different scene from exactly one year ago.

"Be my turtle-queen-valentine?" he whispers into her ear.

She laughs a good long laugh that makes her whole body feel light and free. That wasn't what she was expecting to hear from him, but she'll take it just the same.

She answers by snuggling into his side and resting her head on his shoulder.

"So did you have a good Valentine's Day, Keel?" he asks after a minute or two of comfortable silence. "I know it's not been extravagant but--"

"I got exactly what I wanted."

They are together, and that's all she really needs right now. The past couple of weeks...

She'll never forget them.

The first session of treatment was terrifying, but not nearly as hard as she had expected. A low starter dosage of chemotherapy drugs had resulted in few side-effects, but the induction phase was unsuccessful and more sessions will be required, and they are likely to bring more severe side-effects. And she's been using the off-time to prepare for that.

During her first week in the hospital, she was ill for a few days, and nearly wore a path in the tile floor from her bed to the bathroom. But the nausea lessened as her body became more accustomed to the drugs. However, it left her incredibly fatigued; some days she couldn't even sit up in her bed. But her mom and Dee had kept her spirits as high as possible. And Via came by whenever she could; it was always good to see her. And he came too.

She glances over at him.

He was there every day after school and every morning before classes began. He never mentioned the two times he was tardy to first period, but Via did.

She smiles and leans even closer into his side, as if moved by some invisible force, Phil-gravity as she likes to call it, but her smile soon fades.

He came to see her, and he would sit by her bed and hold her hand until she fell asleep. He was right there. But sometimes, she couldn't feel his presence. And they never really talked about what was happening. Maybe it was better they didn't. She tells herself that anyway.

But not talking about things didn't seem to make the emptiness go away, the void that he used to fill so completely. It's been gradually growing since she found out she was sick. But right now, days like today, though few in number for the last three weeks, are different. They're different, but exactly the way they were back when her life was simple.

Back when her life was simple... That was just a month ago. In a single month not even worthy of a tick on eternity's clock, her life became something else. It's not so black and white anymore. She thought black and white was here to stay after she finally sorted out the complicated mess that was her feelings for Phil.

But now her life is gray. No, not gray, she thinks. It's just black. It's just a deep shade. For her life to be gray, there would have to be a tint to lighten the black.

And as she listens to the soothing sound of his soft breathing, she realizes there is a tint after all.

But even still, the inky darkness prevails. Not even he can mix the colors enough to change that. Not even the hard work he has put into making her reprieve feel as normal as possible has changed that either.

Although the short break, the time for her to regain her strength before returning to the hospital, before returning to the treatments, before leaving home and him again, has been relaxing and calm and normal, and she's been catching up on her homework, spending time with her friends, and enjoying the feel of home and her own bed, the short break hasn't changed anything at all.

It hasn't changed anything. It's only been misleading. It's given her false hope.

However, as she feels a warm hand slide into her own, she realizes that the boy at her side brings her all the hope she needs right now. And she tries so hard to believe the hope he brings will last forever, but the emptiness, the void, continues to expand and push him a little farther away from her each day. He's still right here, but the feeling of his presence is beginning to leave her again.

She's not aware that he's experiencing the same thing, and he's just as unaware. There is so much they don't realize...

And in time, after three more weeks, they are here together again, like always. But by now, the emptiness is so oppressing that they can barely feel each other at all.

He watches her as she sleeps. He wishes he could do more than that, something meaningful. He focuses on the rise and fall of her chest in the darkened hospital room. The steady rhythm comforts him. He slowly blinks the weariness from his eyes as the image of her begins to blur from his lack of sleep. But the thoughts pick and pull at him unrelentingly; sleep won't come easy tonight, if it ever comes at all.

A soft murmur is the only thing that breaks the spell the thoughts have cast upon him. Quickly, he rises from the chair and moves to the bed.

"Keel, wake up," he whispers, gently shaking her to draw her from her sleep.

Her body stills and within seconds she opens her eyes to see his face hovering close to hers. "Phil?" she asks groggily.

"Yeah, it's me."

"What's going on?" she asks though her mind answers that for her. Lately, she's become very familiar with dishonesty. As she slowly sits up, propping herself against the pillows, she tries to keep her tremble hidden.

"I think you were dreaming," he replies. Or having a nightmare, he adds silently to himself.

Running her hand through her messy hair, she sighs and averts his gaze. "I don't remember."

"It's ok," he answers just as she draws in a deep breath and tightly closes her eyes. "Keely?" he asks in alarm.

"I'm--"

"Sick? Do you need a nurse? Your mom?"

She opens her eyes and shakes her head. "No, I'm...fine."

"Keely..."

"Maybe you should...go," she says in a quiet voice, looking down at her lap, away from the hurt in his eyes.

"But...I..."

"It's late," she replies keeping her head bowed.

"I don't mind," he answers sincerely, but she glances up at him and shakes her head. "You need to go home, Phil. Get some sleep, alright?"

"Ok..." he says reluctantly as he slowly steps backwards to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah," she replies, adjusting her blanket.

"Goodnight, Keely," he says in a soft voice as he turns to look at her before exiting the room. "I...

But his whisper dissolves into the dark room, unheard as she turns onto her side and away from him. For a moment he simply stands there, staring at the subtle silvery shine of her hair in the light from the full moon outside the window streaming in to reflect upon the blond strands where they splay across the pillow.

For a moment, his heart aches, but then the moment passes without any regard for him.

As he slips quietly out the door, he doesn't hear the teardrop spill onto her cheek.


	6. Chapter 6

Well...I guess I'll try to work through the depression by continuing with this. But due to the story's nature...that's probably not going to help much. Yeah.

Chapter Six

The morning sun shines down upon him, warming him as the slight chill of the early spring breeze wafts through the courtyard where he sits alone on a concrete bench next to a small garden of budding flowers.

He can hear the faint voices of the staff and patients and visitors as they pass by along the sidewalk winding through the grass. He can hear the whirring of a helicopter in the distance as it rises from the launch pad while he sits with his elbows resting on his knees, staring down at the long blades of green catching the sunlight in the dewdrops clinging to them.

But he can't hear her voice inside his head. He hasn't heard it in weeks... not since that night she had suggested he leave.

He listens intently, willing his brain to drag her spoken reassurances up through the muddled mess of his thoughts, but the memory can't be found. Reassurances from others appear at the surface of his consciousness, but he needs to hear it from her.

She just doesn't offer it anymore, and that almost scares him more than anything else.

And that is why he sits alone two floors down from where he should be, where he wants to be, while the insignificant noises of this particular pocket of the world laced with the murmurs in his mind surround him. He waits for the sound of her voice to silence them, but it never attempts to utter even a whisper.

"You look like I feel."

Slowly he lifts his head to see a smiling face standing before him. She drops to the bench and rolls her neck from side to side, causing the vertebrae to crackle.

"Ohh...I'll tell ya, Phil...these extra shifts are just killin' my feet," she adds as she slips off her shoe and gives her foot a good rub.

Phil looks back down at the grass; the dewdrops have fallen to the earth. Dee gives him a sideways glance, taking in the worry written on his forehead and the quiet despair drawn into a thin line on his lips.

"She's sleeping right now." He looks over at her and raises his eyebrow. Slipping off her other shoe and her socks, Dee expels a breath of pleasure. "That's better...but good thing you're not downwind."

A nearly inaudible laugh involuntarily escapes him while he watches her nose wrinkle as she looks down at her bare feet.

"You ever want to go back in time to when not wearing any shoes was socially acceptable?" She sighs and glances his way. "If I had a time machine...that's where I'd go."

With a chuckle, Phil shakes his head and looks out across the lawn to where a group of doctors have gathered outside double doors to gulp down water and quickly feast on snacks during a short break from their busy schedules.

"Shoes..." Dee says, examining the bright white sneakers on the ground. "We keep adding to ourselves, ya know?" She waits for him to give her his attention before continuing. "Shoes...and clothing...makeup and jewelry... All just more barriers between ourselves and others."

Phil slightly furrows his brow, a bit unsure of what she means, and therefore, just as unsure of how to respond. But Dee suddenly laughs and points to one of the entrances where a rather large man with his midsection bulging over his belt has just appeared.

"Well, I guess the clothing barrier is actually a blessing. Can you imagine him without it?" Phil opens his mouth to reply, but she shakes her head. "No, don't imagine that. You're much too young and pure."

He grins and she pats his knee. "Hey! Now that's a good look for you."

He nods his head and glances down at his hands clasped together, absent-mindedly drumming his thumbs to some unknown beat.

Dee wiggles her toes in the soft grass. "See how happy they are to be free from the barrier?" He looks at her like she's crazy as she personifies her toes, but she doesn't seem to mind. Instead, she gestures with a nod to the building adjacent to the space they occupy. "She'll be waking up soon."

"How do you know?" he asks curiously.

"Because I noticed her window was open just a crack, and the mowers will be firing up at the top of the hour."

Phil frowns. "It's early. That's inconsiderate."

"That's life," she bluntly replies. "Most things, most people, just don't care one way or the other."

"Shouldn't be like that," he mumbles quietly, turning his attention back to his hands.

"Something on your mind, Phil?" Dee asks delicately.

He can see the genuine tender concern within her eyes. A part of him smiles, though he doesn't show it on the exterior, but a part of him feels lighter to realize how much this woman, once a stranger, truly cares about what Keely's going through. And she apparently cares for him too.

And there is something on his mind. There are many somethings on his mind, but he'll choose the most important for the moment. "How..." he begins carefully. "How is she today?"

"That's not the first time you've asked me that before you go inside her room."

She's right, he thinks. Preparation has become his priority.

"If I told you she wasn't very well, what would you do then?" she asks gently.

What would he do? Torn between walking into that room like he has so many times before or walking away from the hospital as if he was never here at all, he replies the best way he can, in a quiet tone bordering on shame, "I don't know."

Dee watches him for a few seconds, as he breathes out a resigned sigh and hangs his head again. She reaches out and places a warm hand on his, causing the nervous movements of his fingers to cease.

"You should take off your shoes sometime, Phil," she says in a soft voice. His brow knits together slightly, and she chuckles as she leans forward to retrieve her shoes and socks. She slips them on and shrugs. "Health codes, ya know?" She rises to her feet and smiles down at him. "I'll see you around, kid."

"Yeah...bye.." he replies distractedly as the gears in his head rapidly spin trying to process her previous comment.

Dee chuckles again and looks down at her watch. "Somebody's awake," she says with a wink before walking down the sidewalk to the double doors.

He watches her until she disappears into the building, and within seconds the engines ignite.

The loud roar of the motors forces Keely's heavy eyelids to open much to her protest. Of all the rare mornings she finds herself in a relatively peaceful slumber, they decide to cut the grass today.

It's the first of spring, she thinks. Shouldn't stuff grow in the springtime?

She grumbles and slowly pushes herself up to a sitting position. At least her room faces away from the east. A bright and cheery room is the last thing she needs right now, especially after last night.

Dr. Richardson confirmed what she had assumed for the last few weeks; she's not getting better. As he launched into his typical doctor-speak she was clueless as usual; however, she did manage to get the drift as she read between the lines, something she's developed a talent for since she first met the man.

The treatment wasn't working or wasn't having the results he wanted it to have; she's not sure which. Either way, adjustments were made, and the new dosages of chemotherapy caused side-effects nearly as bad as the symptoms from the disease itself.

She glances down at her arm where the sleeve of her shirt has risen up to reveal the bruise at the spot where the needle had been inserted to deliver the intravenous medicine. Being poked a dozen or so times has really made her appreciate the days when all she had to do was pop a few pills.

But even though her health is in decline, Dr. Richardson stressed several times for her benefit and her mother's that they haven't exhausted all avenues yet. He had been careful to note that hope should not be lost.

Well, she thinks to herself as she runs her hand through her unkempt hair and grimaces at the stringy feel of it, maybe if hope hadn't been pretty much abandoned a long time ago, she'd be able to agree with him.

Then he had spoken of her remission. Keely rolls her eyes as she recalls that conversation. Remission implies that her treatment will work and the signs of the cancer will disappear. She thought it was a little premature to be discussing remission, and she still thinks exactly that.

With remission, when it happens, or more importantly, if it happens, she will be ushered into the next phase. Dr. Richardson had an impressive technical name for it, but she could have cared less. Whether or not she knew what the next phase was called, she did know what it would entail.

Bone marrow transplant.

The details of that process were mind-numbing. But she does understand this much: she needs a donor since Dr. Richardson had decided against using her own cells in the procedure.

A family member is usually the most likely candidate, he had told her and her mom. But sometimes, an unrelated donor is needed. Her name would be entered into a database to search for a match if her mother is ruled out.

But then he had spoken something else that had surprised her and even made her feel a little happy. But the fact that she had to learn the information from her doctor overshadowed that tiny spark of joy.

At the sound of a familiar knock, she swings her legs over the side of the bed and narrows her eyes at the door.

"Hey Keel," he says rather flatly as he closes the door behind him. He pauses mid-stride on his way to the chair by her bed as his brain fully registers the implications behind the expression on her face.

"Why didn't you tell me you're going to get tested?"

For a moment he just stands there staring blankly ahead. She crosses her arms over her chest and pins him down with a hard stare until he finally responds.

"I haven't had the chance," he answers slowly as his voice tries to work its way through the lie.

"What about yesterday?" she asks without missing a beat.

He casts his eyes down to the tile, focusing on a small ball of yellow fuzz that must have come from her blanket. "I guess I forgot."

"Phil."

Inwardly he cringes at the sharp tone in her voice, the warning she gives him, but outwardly he casually shrugs. "Look, Keel, it's not a big deal."

For a second, hurt flashes across her features, but she covers it well by moving the discussion forward. "My mom said you're gonna be tested on Friday."

"Yeah."

"Next Friday."

"Uh huh."

She sighs in frustration at his refusal to acknowledge the significance of the date. "That's the day of the trip, Phil."

"So?" he replies quickly.

"So..." she begins slowly, "you've been looking forward to it for months."

He shrugs again and slouches down into the armchair. "It's probably not even gonna be that great. I mean, how much fun can a day at a planetarium be anyway?"

Keely scoffs. "For you?"

"I was only really looking forward to sitting in a dark room with you," he replies lightly with a smile in hopes that he can alter the slightly tense atmosphere surrounding them. "The wonders of the universe high above us? That was just gonna be an extra thing... Besides...I'm from the future...a little narrated light show isn't gonna blow me away."

Keely shakes her head. It's not the reaction he wanted to see. "This isn't right."

"What isn't right?" he asks cautiously.

"I'm messing everything up," she replies in a considerably louder voice.

"What?" he asks with a completely confused expression.

She stands up and begins to slowly pace the floor. "You all ready missed that Senior fundraiser last weekend and the town parade weeks ago..."

"Keely, I--"

"We spent forever helping to design and decorate that float, and it all just went to waste."

"Keely, it--"

"And why? Why did that happen?"

"Keely, that's not import--"

"Oh, that's right. It happened because of me."

"Keel, I d--"

"It's true."

He sighs and rubs his eyes. "Would you please let me say something?"

"No. You keep _not_ doing all these things, Phil."

"I don't want to do them without you," he replies softly.

For a brief moment, she believes him, but then the moment passes and is forgotten. "You're just saying that. You just don't want to hurt my feelings," she says glancing down at the floor.

Rising to his feet, he firmly denies that. "You're wrong, Keely. I meant it."

She lifts her head to look at him, and despite the part of her begging for the words in her mind to not be spoken, she voices what she never imagined she would ever hear herself say.

"I want to break up with you."

As he is rudely shoved into a stupor, Phil's heart sinks like a stone to his stomach. "Wha..what?" he stammers.

"I'm gonna lose my hair, you know. Maybe all of it. It's just a matter of time."

"What does that..." He shakes his head and makes another attempt, this time with more strength in his voice. "What does that have to do with us being together, Keely?"

"Look at me, Phil. I'm sick, and it shows," she replies with a hint of disgust. "I'm not the girl you wanted in the beginning. And what you see right now is only going to get worse..." She sighs as she glances down at herself in her baggy pajamas pants and wrinkled shirt. She dares a look in the small mirror hanging above the sink. Dark circles persistently hang under her eyes, and her hair is dull and thin and becoming more so every day.

"No one wants a girlfriend like this," she says in a small voice as she turns away from her reflection. "I can't even go out with you on dates like normal couples 'cause I might catch some kinda germ from somebody or... There's just so much I can't do..."

"Keely," he says stepping closer to her, but she steps back to maintain the distance between them. Ignoring the painful pang in his chest, he adds, "None of that matters to me."

"It should."

"How can you say that? Keely...I promised you..."

"But it's not fair to you to keep it, Phil. What if I can't graduate? What if you have to go away to college without me?"

He shakes his head. "I'll wait for you. Right here."

"You can't do that."

"Yes, I can."

"I don't want you to do that, Phil. I don't want to be the reason you don't move on with your life," she replies as she moves even farther away from him.

Unconsciously, his feet bring him a few steps closer to her. "I'll move on when you can."

His words tug at her heart but not hard enough to pull it from the depths of her despair. "You should be somewhere else, Phil. You shouldn't be in this hospital room worrying about me..."

The sudden stabbing pain causes him to flinch.

"You should be out having fun...with someone you can actually have fun with... It's our Senior year, Phil and you're missing out."

"I'm where I want to be."

She sadly shakes her head. "No..Phil...you're where your _guilt _wants you to be."

"Keely..." He slowly moves towards her again.

Dodging from the reach of his hand, she walks to the other side of the room, putting the bed between them. "I'm so tired of this, Phil..." she says in a quiet voice while looking out the window at the scores of cars in the parking lot, the bright sunshine gleaming off their hoods. "Just leave."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he briefly closes his eyes and then turns to the door, obeying her request. But before he slips out of the room, he looks at her one last time. He silently pleads with her to face him, but she keeps gazing out the window.

"I'll go..." he whispers.

She blinks, and for a few seconds he anticipates her turning around to look at him. She doesn't.

But I'll never leave you.

Despite his intentions, the words are never spoken as he steps through the door.

It clicks and she is left alone again. She inhales deeply and steels herself against the tears threatening to fall. She stubbornly blinks them back until they disappear.

She doesn't want to be sick anymore... She wants to be healthy and whole...and better...for him if for no other reason. And she doesn't understand why she can't be... And she doesn't understand what just happened to them...

But for the next several hours, the day is normal, full of routine, and easy to understand. It's a daily drill, the IV, lunch, the usual face-to-face confrontation with the toilet bowl, the supplementary medication, Dr. Richardson's check-in, her mom's appearance, the periods of solitude in between, dinner, and the inevitable arrival of some unknown visitor.

When the door opens this time, she realizes she was expecting him to return or maybe just hoping for it in some small way, but then she realizes the unlikelihood of that happening.

Now plagued by a mixture of hurt and anger, she realizes she doesn't want to see him or anyone else tonight.

"Hi."

She doesn't even want to see a good friend.

"Is this a bad time?"

She especially doesn't want to see a good friend who has a somewhat irritating, at least that's how she perceives it right now, ability to read her every thought and calculate assumptions from her every move.

"Keely?"

But then again, this good friend usually has an answer for everything. Perhaps, Via can answer one of the questions currently battering her mind.

"Why do people get sick?"

Via stands in the center of the room with a blank expression, only a bit surprised by the seemingly random question. Keely sighs and asks again.

"I'm not sure if I understand," she replies.

"I don't mean what causes it to happen but..."

Via furrows her brow. "You mean--"

"Do you believe there's something in control of all this?" she interrupts.

"Like... God?"

"Maybe...just...something that says 'Ok..now it's your turn to get sick and die'."

"You're not dying, Keely." Slowly, Via moves to the chair, which Keely had at some point during the day pushed away from her bed. "And I don't believe you are being singled out."

She looks down at her lap. "There are millions of people in some hospital bed like this. I try to feel for them, but I just can't seem to care... Part of me doesn't even want to," she quietly admits.

"That's understandable."

"But that doesn't make it any less wrong," she replies with a hint of anger in her voice as she glances back up at Via.

"Keely, I know that you want to--"

"All I want is my life back."

Via nods. "I know."

She rests her head on the pillows. "There's too much I haven't done," she says quietly while staring up at the ceiling.

"You can't give up hope, Keely."

"Maybe I all ready have," she replies dejectedly.

"Well, maybe you'll find it again," Via offers encouragingly.

"Yeah..." She scoffs. "Well, I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you."

The door opens and Dee comes through with a smile on her face. "Hello there, Via," she greets as she moves to the counter, depositing her tray there.

"I suppose I should go," she says, rising to her feet.

"Oh no, you don't have to leave. I'm just making the regular stop."

"I need to be going anyway." She turns to Keely. "Owen's expecting me, but I'll see you soon."

She lifts her head from the pillow. "Yeah. I'll see ya."

After a brief hesitation, Via offers her a small smile and exits the room with a return of Dee's wave. Keely sits up when she approaches her bed with a cup of water and the antibiotic.

"Wow, look at that," Dee says as Keely takes the items from her.

"What?" she asks disinterestedly.

"Outside," Dee replies moving to the window. "The sky. Magnificent, isn't it?" she asks, her face awash in the glow from the setting sun.

Keely downs her pill without ever giving the sunset a glance.

"There's an old saying..." Dee says still admiring the brilliant display of colors. "An old mariner's trick to determining the best time to cast off."

"Oh yeah?" Keely replies dully.

Dee nods and steps away from the window. "Red sky in the morning, sailors take warning; red sky at night, a sailor's delight." Keely casts a quick glance at the sky, and Dee smiles. "Looks like we're in for some good weather soon."

When Dee turns around to throw the paper cup into the trashcan, Keely sneaks another look at the sun as it dips behind the treeline. That one small part of her, the part that still clutches tightly onto hope, the part that hasn't completely disregarded the people who care about her, it grows as she gazes at the fading red-orange light and begins to believe that just maybe Dee will be right. Maybe good weather is on the horizon.

"So," Dee says with a smile as she spins back around to face her. "Where's that boy who's head-over-heels in love with you?"

Keely feels the prickling of guilt even as her heart smiles. "He's at home, I guess."

Dee shakes her head. "Couldn't be," she teases. "That boy who comes here every day and spends half of every night outside that door sitting on those awful, uncomfortable chairs?"

"He does?" she asks in disbelief. She never knew he stayed outside her room at night. Usually he would sit with her until he ran out of stories about school to tell her or until she would fall asleep, but she never knew he didn't go home. Now, the guilt is nearly unbearable.

"Uh huh," she replies casually, trying to keep her smile hidden. "Well, as usual, the good doc calls for lots of rest...so that means it's bedtime for you, kid."

"I can't possibly rest anymore, Dee," she groans at the thought of sleeping again, though her body demands it. "I'm too tired to sleep."

"I understand, Keely. But it's really for the best." She allows that smile to appear now. "Besides, if you don't follow his orders, that reflects poorly on me."

"Well, I guess we can't have that," she replies as she reclines on the bed and pulls her blanket up over her chest.

"I appreciate it, kid."

"Dee?"

She pauses at the door. "Yes?"

"Thanks."

She doesn't have to say what the thanks is for, and Dee doesn't need to ask. Somehow, she just knows. "Hey...what are friends for?" she says with a mysterious smile before disappearing behind the door.

Immediately, Keely thinks of Via...who was only trying to help. She's been so patient and understanding and...

"And I treated her like dirt," Keely whispers to the quiet room.

And she's not the only one, her mind whispers back...

_What about him?_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

The vibrant red-orange hues gradually fade into deep blue and purple as he reclines on the grass in the backyard, but his busy mind doesn't notice the changes.

The low ceiling of clouds drifts into the east, and the shine of the night's first stars appears overhead. The moment is like that of a hundred moments he's lived before, but tonight the moment is lonely and lacking one very important detail.

He sighs at the sound of the back door swinging open and the shuffled footsteps that follow.

"Do you realize you've been out here for three hours?"

Without even a hint of acknowledgment of her unwelcome presence, Phil continues staring up into the wide firmament.

"Are you ok, Phil?"

Her voice is uncharacteristically gentle, and that combined with the fact that she even bothered to ask in the first place, causes him to flick his gaze to his left where she stands with her hands in her jacket pockets.

"I drew the short straw," she says with an indifferent shrug.

He rolls his eyes, though a part of him is somewhat relieved to see the expected familiarity surface in his sister. At least something is as it should be.

"Anyway," she adds in a dry voice, "There's someone here to see you."

"I'm not up for visitors."

She smirks down at him. "I'll send her on out then."

"_Pim_," he grumbles in displeasure, but she's all ready bouncing up the steps.

Wearily, he rises to a sitting position and tosses a quick glance over his shoulder at the door, waiting for the visitor to appear. Within a minute's time, she does.

"Hey, Via," he greets unenthusiastically. "Aren't you supposed to be somewhere?"

She nods as she approaches. "He was very understanding when I called to say that I would be late."

"He was?"

"Either that or he just didn't get what I said." She points down. "How's the ground tonight?"

"Hard and damp."

"Well," she says as she seats herself next to him upon the grass, "I've been needing a legitimate excuse to purchase a new pair of cords... How are you feeling?" she asks sincerely.

"What do you mean?" he asks, raising his eyebrow.

"I think plenty of people have been asking Keely that. I thought maybe someone should ask you too."

"Yeah, well," he scoffs lightly, "I don't think what I'm feeling is important here, Via."

"She's not going through this alone, Phil."

"Feels like she is," he replies quietly as he distractedly twirls a blade of grass between his fingers. Via very subtly clears her throat and he glances her way.

She's doing it again, he thinks. Leave it to Via...

"We had a fight today," he says abruptly, partly to make her stop looking at him like that but to also silence the voice in his head.

Via nods. "So that's what was wrong with her."

"Was she mad?" he asks timidly.

"She wasn't very much like herself."

"What do you think that means?" he asks cautiously.

"I would say she was either feeling guilty or hurt."

He winces. "Those aren't good choices."

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks softly.

He chuckles. "Not really...but you have this uncanny ability to make me talk even when I don't want to."

"I take pride in that ability," she replies with a smile.

"You should. It's really amazing." He sighs and flings the blade of grass into a small patch of dirt nearby. "I don't know what happened. I mean, I barely got out a 'hello' before she ripped into me."

"About what?"

He lowers his eyes to the ground. "Well...I hadn't told her about the donor screening."

"And that's what upset her?"

"I dunno..I guess. But then," he says snapping his head back up to look at Via, "out of nowhere she starts accusing me of choosing her over some stupid Senior stuff."

"I see."

"It's ridiculous. It's crazy. Does she really think that I'm making some big sacrifice for her and that I'm gonna end up regretting it for the rest of my life?"

"I'm sure she just doesn't want you to miss anything, Phil."

"But I don't care about that stuff," he says shaking his head vehemently, "if she can't be a part of it."

"Did you tell her that?"

"Yes!"

"She didn't believe you?"

He rolls his eyes. "She thinks I'm skipping that stuff out of some kind of obligation to be with her."

Via frowns. "That _is_ ridiculous and crazy."

"Thank you!" he shouts as he lifts his hands in the air. Via stifles her laughter as he slowly lowers his arms to his sides and asks in a quieter voice, "Can you go tell her that?"

"No," she answers with a small smile. "Because I believe that I understand why she thinks that and why she feels bad about it," she adds off his disappointed expression.

"Why?"

"Because she's Keely," she replies with a chuckle. "Come on, Phil. Who does she never put first and always put last?"

"I know but...why does she want to break up with me?"

"She wants to break up with you?" He nods slowly. "That's not something I thought I'd ever hear."

"Yeah..."

"What else did she say?"

He scoffs. "Basically..that I should find someone I can have fun with..." He mutters, "And who has lots of hair."

"She's just insecure right now, Phil."

"She thinks I deserve something better, Via," he replies, examining the lines on his palms. "There's nothing better," he adds in a distant voice. "Why doesn't she get that?"

"Perhaps because what she's going through is...unimaginable. We don't have the slightest idea what she really experiences on a daily basis, Phil. There is the constant reminder that she's suffering from a serious disease, being away from home and school and her mom and her friends and everything she loves in her life, and then there are the treatments and the medication and the side effects..." She asks gently, "What do you expect from her?"

"I expect her to trust me enough to tell me what's really going on with her," he answers, turning to look into Via's eyes. "I don't have the slightest idea what she's experiencing because she jumps through all these hoops to keep from actually having to talk to me about it."

"And have you trusted her enough to tell her what's really going on with you?"

He shrugs. "Of course...yeah...maybe..." He sighs as she raises her eyebrow. "Not really I guess." She nods slowly and glances away. "Stop doing that!" he frustratedly exclaims. Via casually looks around the dark backyard, feigning ignorance. "No, I haven't," he admits in quiet defeat after a few seconds.

"Phil, do you want some advice?" she asks with a smile.

"Yes, please," he automatically replies.

"Talk to her."

"Talking doesn't really seem to be working, Via."

"No, Phil. _Talk_ to her. Tell her how you feel."

He furrows his brow as a faint voice whispers inside his head. Realization dawns and the corner of his mouth turns upwards the slightest bit. "Take my shoes off..."

"Excuse me?"

He shakes his head. "Never mind." She remains curious but doesn't press him. "So..it'll work?" he asks hopefully.

"Well, I don't see how it could hurt...unless..." she says with a smile, "she throws something at your head."

He laughs. "I'll make sure all potential weapons are out of reach."

"I need to get home, I suppose," she says with a chuckle as she rises to her feet.

"Yeah..." he says glancing up at her. "I'm sure you do."

"What does that mean, Phil?"

"What does what mean, Via?" he asks innocently.

She raises her eyebrow. "You had a tone."

"Did I?"

"You did."

"Huh."

She shakes her head. "I am not rushing off to find the perfect outfit to wear tonight and spend any length of time on my hair or makeup for his benefit if that's what you're thinking."

Phil smiles. "Now why would I think that?"

"If you tell anyone, I cannot be held responsible for my actions."

"Jeez..Via..."

She pats his head a tad too firmly and smiles. "Goodnight."

"Have fun on your daaate!" he calls over his shoulder as she makes her way to the backdoor.

She pauses there, but he can't clearly see the expression on her face through the night's shadows; however, he's almost positive she's rolling her eyes.

The door closes and he laughs. Reclining back onto the hard, damp ground, he gazes into the endless darkness and wonders about her and what she's doing right now. He feels like he should be sitting on that uncomfortable chair outside her room. He really should be. But he'll see her tomorrow. He just hopes she wants to see him when he walks through her door.

And after spending the entire night worrying himself into a sleepless fit over it, he takes comfort in the few hours before the time he will discover whether hoping has had any influence on how the day unfolds.

Standing in the fresh outdoors on this partly sunny morning, Phil's eyes thoroughly scan the surrounding area.

"What do ya think?"

He gives Owen a nod of approval. "Good find."

"Thought you might see it that way," he says, jumping off the boulder he so proudly stood upon to introduce his discovery. "So are you gonna tell me what this is for _now_?"

Walking over to the edge of the small pond, Phil shakes his head. "It's a surprise."

"Yeaah...for _Keely_," he scoffs, "buuut I dunno if you noticed...I ain't her."

"You don't say."

"Oh, c'mon, dude! Spill."

Phil bends down to pick up a pine cone. "You'll find out soon, Owen," he replies tossing the cone into the pond. Watching it bob up and down on the surface of the dark green water, he bites his lip and begins to doubt his brilliant plan. When the idea had first struck him, it sounded great, but now...

Unfortunately, a minuscule amount of time can have a dramatic effect on the best of plans made with the best of intentions.

"Can ya give me a hint?"

"Sure. You're gonna be helping me with the surprise."

"Is uh...that the hint?"

"Yep."

Owen rolls his eyes. "Ah man...that tells me zip...except...that...I'm...gonna be doin' some work..." He shakes his head. "No, no."

"It's not going to be that difficult _and_ it's for a good cause."

"Alllriiight...for Keely."

"For Keely." Phil lightly kicks a clump of dirt off the bank.

"You're not keepin' a lid on this cuz you're afraid I might tell her, are ya? I wouldn't do that, dude."

"Owen...I know you're the reason she wasn't even the least bit surprised on her seventeenth birthday."

"I didn't mean to tell her!"

He gives his friend an encouraging pat on the back. "Of course you didn't _mean_ to..." Owen expels a breath of relief. "But you still told her...and I'd like her to have the proper reaction to this surprise. Ok?"

"I hear ya," he replies with a shrug. "Sooo...what now?"

Phil glances at the small hill in the distance. "Tell him I'll take it."

Owen rubs his hands together. "Awesome." He jogs down the small incline but then quickly turns back to Phil. "Oh..um...one condition though."

"What's that?" he asks joining Owen on the narrow dirt path.

With a nudge of his foot to a jagged rock, he answers, "See all these rocks?"

Phil takes another good look around them. Dozens of rocks, some palm-sized others much larger, lay scattered among the dried weeds. "Yeah..."

"And all those out there?"

His eyes travel the length of the lot to where it ends at an old, partially broken wooden fence. The entire acreage is filled with rocks. "What about them?" he asks carefully, a bit apprehensive about their significance.

"They're the condition."

Phil furrows his brow. "You mean...I gotta..."

"Uh huh."

"That's not a condition... that's cruel and unusual punishment."

Owen shrugs. "Wellll, get your bucket ready, dude, cuz these rocks gotta go." He laughs. "The man maybe old, but he ain't dumb."

The task is daunting and rather depressing, but if that's the deal...and since it is for her...he'll do it. Besides, he thinks, with a little future technology, this should be pretty easy.

"You can shake on it, Owen."

"You sure? That's a lot of rocks..."

Phil shrugs nonchalantly. "Eh...it's all how you look at it."

"I'm lookin' and uh...I see a lot of rocks."

"True...but you know if this same quantity of rocks was scattered in a bigger field...might not look like a lot."

"Ahhh...I see..." he says slowing nodding, but then he shakes his head. "Umm...no, scratch that."

Phil chuckles. "Just tell him I'll have this place rock-free in no time."

"Will do," Owen replies opening the door of his car. "Now let's hit some highway!"

"In a hurry?" Phil asks, dropping into the plush leather seat.

As the tires kick up gravel and dust, the car pulls onto the pavement. "I might be expecting a phone call," he says giving his chin a stroke.

"Well, based on your...detailed summary...of last night..." Phil nods. "I'd say the odds are in your favor."

"Ohhh yeaaah."

"But uh...she's calling you on the day after? Don't you usually take that upon yourself?"

Owen scoffs. "It's Via, dude."

"Right. That makes sense."

He shrugs. "I guess they do things differently in Canada."

Phil glances over at his friend who is fiddling with the stereo knobs. "Um...Via's not...Canadian."

"She's not?" he asks, popping in a disc when the radio doesn't offer anything satisfying.

"Nooo...and you know that," Phil replies. At least that's what he thought, but with Owen, there is rarely any certainty. "Why would you think..."

But Owen's nodding his head to the thumping beat blaring from the speakers and drumming his hands on the steering wheel.

Phil shakes his head and stares out the window. "I don't get you sometimes, Via..." he mumbles under his breath as the loud voice beside him begins to rap along with the lyrics.

However, the music and Owen are easily drowned out by his thoughts as he catches the last glimpse of the house upon the hill before the road takes them in the opposite direction.

Maybe he should cancel his plan. Maybe he should postpone it until he knows whether or not they'll even be together...

Yesterday morning was definitely something he could have lived without. But a tiny part of him almost anticipated it. The last few weeks haven't exactly been the highlight of their time together.

Despite what occurred yesterday, despite the distance between them, Via's words have made him feel better about the situation. There's a dark cloud hanging over their heads, but they can still find some sunshine. He hopes.

He'll go see her today, they'll talk, sort things out, and everything will be fine. They will be Phil and Keely, Keely and Phil again. And they won't let that cloud intimidate them any longer.

But, unfortunately, his confidence level is much lower by the time Owen drops him off at the hospital.

"Hello, Phil."

"Hey, Dee."

She falls into step beside him as they make their way up the long stretch of hallway. "She seems to be having a pretty good day."

"Really?" he asks glancing over at her with hope in his eyes.

"Uh huh. She was dressed in something other than her pajamas and up walking the halls earlier." Dee nudges his ribs with her elbow, "I think she was trying to sneak a pack of those little crunchy chocolate squares from the vending machine down in the main lobby."

"That's good news...well, that she's feeling better today...not that she's trying to sneak prohibited junk food."

Dee laughs. "So...are you going up?" she asks when he pauses at the open elevator door.

"Yeah...I am," he replies, stuffing his hands into his pockets and rocking back on his heels as the slight trepidation makes its reappearance.

"Well, I guess I'll see you around, kid," Dee says stepping into the elevator. Phil gives her a lazy wave as the door begins to close, but Dee holds it back with her hand. "Oh, did you see that _gorgeous_ sky last night? That was really somethin'."

For a few seconds he ponders the reason she would ask that but then answers her with a vague nod.

"I just love springtime sunsets... I haven't seen one like that in a long time." She smiles. "Beautiful, wasn't it?"

"Um...well...I didn't actually notice it all that much, Dee."

"Well, we get preoccupied sometimes."

"Yeah..."

"It's a shame," she says with a sigh. "The sky was a real sight to see...the colors and the texture of the clouds..." She frowns. "But it was over almost before it began. Such a shame...moments passing by like that...such a dazzling display of nature's art...and all those people who didn't see it because they were wrapped up in something else..."

She sighs again. "I wish people would sometimes just stop and watch the sun go down."

Phil slowly nods his head.

"Well," Dee says in a more upbeat tone, "you'll give it a glance every now and then?"

"Sure."

"Good... You know, Phil...it's all right for people to let go sometimes." She gives him a subtle wink. "That way, they don't miss anymore beautiful sunsets. What do ya say?"

He raises his eyebrow in suspicion. "Are you really just a nurse?"

"See ya, Phil," she replies with a laugh as the door slides shut.

After about ten minutes of hanging around the elevator, Phil finally gathers himself enough to appear presentable and quietly slips into her room. Despite Dee's mention, he's still a little surprised to find Keely dressed in jeans and a casual sweater since the image isn't one he has seen in quite some time.

"Hey."

She turns away from the window to look at him. "Hey."

"You look good today," he says, slowly walking into the room, trying to determine whether or not the lack of expression on her face is a good sign. She raises her eyebrows slightly, and he mentally kicks himself for making that comment. "Not that..um..you don't look good every day..it's just..."

She sits on the edge of the bed. "Thanks," she replies somewhat awkwardly.

"Keely."

"Phil."

She gestures at him with a wave of her hand. "Go ahead."

"No, that's ok. You go ahead."

She takes a breath. "I want to apologize... I said some things to you yesterday that I didn't mean."

He shakes his head. "It's all right, Keel. I think I get it."

"You do?"

He sits in the large armchair. "I talked to Via last night."

"Oh..."

"Yeah..." he says with a smile, recalling the brunette's visit. "She's pretty insightful."

Keely nods and glances down at her hands resting in her lap. "Yeah, she usually is...and I should remember that next time I see her...if she ever comes back here."

"What does that mean?"

"It's nothing. Totally different story." She looks up at him, directly into his eyes. That's something she hasn't done much of lately. For a second, she's caught off-guard as if they are not the same shade of color she remembers gazing into countless times. Or maybe, until now, she just didn't see the great deal of sadness they hold these days, sadness that she causes, sadness that seeps from his heart. And that makes this harder for her to do, but she has to do it.

Last night, she felt terrible. Today, she feels terrible. But she will feel even more terrible if she doesn't do this. She wants to be better for him. He deserves that. But she can't be better like this. And if she can't be better for him then...

"Phil..."

The way she speaks his name... His heart begins pounding out a plea for her to not say it. He's tempted to cross his fingers behind his back, do whatever he can to increase the likelihood that she'll tell him she's made a mistake...tell him she didn't mean to nearly kill him with seven little words...

"I wish I could take back everything I said...but...I can't."

The pounding stops only to be replaced by a dull droning in his ears.

"I didn't mean to treat you that way and to say that I think you're here because you feel like you have to be...but..."

"...you meant the other thing..." he whispers as hope of finding the sunshine fades away and the dark cloud thickens.

"I did."

"But why?" he asks, his voice faltering against his efforts to keep it steady.

"I told you...that I--"

"No, Keely. I don't want to hear your excuses again," he interrupts, running his hand through his hair in frustration.

"They're not excuses, Phil," she replies defensively.

"Oh really? Those things you listed for me weren't excuses?"

"No," she replies angrily.

He scoffs. "So then you didn'tmean what you just said about not meaning some of the things you said yesterday?"

"I never said I didn't mean what I said about why I didn't want to be with you if that's what you're saying."

"So, what you said earlier about not meaning some things you said yesterday wasn't about what you said yesterday about not wanting to be with me?"

Keely raises her eyebrows. "You wanna run that by me one more time?"

Phil rolls his eyes. "Look...the point is..."

"Yes?"

Slowly, he rises to his feet and walks towards her. "The point is..." he says in a quiet voice as he sits next to her. "Please don't do this, Keely."

The low desperation in his voice, the heavy sorrow twists her heart into a thousand knots, leaving her body motionless and her breath shallow.

"We can...don't you think we can get through this?"

She looks away. "I don't know," she says through a breathy exhalation.

"You don't know," he repeats quietly, glancing down at his lap.

"It's not simple, Phil," she says, standing up and crossing her arms over her chest. "You don't understand everything."

"Because you don't even try to help me understand, Keely."

"Because I don't even understand it all myself! How am I supposed to help _you_?"

"Take your shoes off!"

Slowly she blinks and shakes her head. "Do what now?"

Having been swept up by the emotion of the moment and unaware of the statement that passed between his lip before he could catch it, Phil quickly looks down at his shoes, mentally sighs at their reminder, and clears his throat. "I mean...talk to me?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"Um..." He shrugs. "I...which would you prefer?" he asks cautiously, glancing up at her.

After staring at him for a few seconds without a trace of an expression, she looks at the window, the bright sky slowly becoming cloudier as the day carries on. What happened to that good weather Dee spoke of?

"Keely."

Meeting his gaze, she replies sadly, "I just don't want to hurt you anymore, Phil."

"That..." he mutters exasperatedly, "doesn't even make sense." For so many reasons, he adds to himself.

And for a moment, a bitter laugh erupts inside his head as he remembers something Via had said to him last night. He glances side to side, but not a single sufficient weapon can be found. Via was wrong. Just talking _can_ hurt. His eyes focus on the girl in front of him again. And that's just one more reason it doesn't make sense.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, dipping her chin to examine the specks of color in the tile, but the attempt is futile as her vision becomes watery and the individual specks blur together.

"Keely..." he begins, fighting through the painful crack in his voice, "break up with me if I do something unforgivable...or if you don't love me anymore..."

She can feel him move closer; the familiar tugging at her heart, the gravity swirling between them, compelling her to look into his face, but she stomps down on the compulsion and refuses to lift her head.

"...but don't break up with me because of _this_..." he finishes quietly, indicating their surroundings, the significance thereof, with a slight movement of his arms.

His heart begins to pound again, its growing intensity matching the mounting tension as he waits for her response. He should tell her the truth. The opportunity is here. He should be honest with her. He should take the advice he's been given. But he doesn't. He wants to, and maybe it would help, but he can't tell her what he feels; the words just won't come out.

Finally, after the minutes have started to stretch into eternity, she looks into his eyes.

He's confused by what he sees within them; he had expected determination and resolution. But they hold something else...something he cannot quite give a name to at the moment.

Several more seconds pass, but she remains silent, never losing sight of the deep pools of brown shimmering with a dozen doubts polished by pain.

He doesn't know what to think, and she doesn't know what to speak. The minute hand jumps forward in time again. And they move.

He steps closer, but she steps away. The change in position causes them to lose eye contact, and, suddenly, the room echoes with muffled sounds coming from the hallway outside. Neither of them realize the sounds have been there all along.

And then without a word, Keely slowly walks into the small bathroom.

And Phil slowly walks out the door.


	8. Chapter 8

I hope this chapter makes sense. When I wrote it, the midnight hour was fast approaching.

Chapter Eight

The low stratus clouds cast a bleak shade over the land, the air is heavy with the moisture the cloud deck tightly grips, and the soft earth beneath his feet still holds water from the rain that has sporadically poured upon Pickford for the last several days.

The forecast for the near future looks the same. He doesn't recall last spring being this damp and dark as he glances up into the sky.

But maybe it won't rain today.

He tosses a few more rocks into the large bucket.

"How many times must we listen to this song?"

"This song rocks," Owen replies slightly offended by her dislike of one of his favorite tunes.

"Yes," Via concedes, "it was good...the first ten times you played it."

"This woman has no appreciation for music."

Phil grabs another rock and looks up at them. They stare at him expectantly. "I'm not getting involved," he says flatly, returning to his work.

"Fence-sitter," Via jabs as Owen ducks into his car.

"Allll riiight... I'll play something else," he says, looking at her through the windshield.

The sound of a piano harmonized with a gentle violin fills the air. Via furrows her brow and when a young female voice joins the orchestra, her face contorts in displeasure. "Put the other one back on."

"What's wrong with this one?" Owen asks exasperatedly as he shuts the car door.

"Much too sugary for my tastes."

Phil dumps an armful of rocks into the bucket. "It's a love song, Via."

"Really, Phil? I didn't realize that."

Owen nods firmly. "Yeah, she doesn't do love songs, dude. Trussst me... I figured that out the hard way."

"You figure everything out the hard way, Owen."

"Huh?"

"You don't like love songs, Via?" Phil asks curiously.

"I like _good_ love songs."

Owen shrugs. "This one's not bad."

"It's merely a poorly constructed combination of three different love songs that actually _were_ good."

He sighs and pops the door open again. "Ok then...I got some techno... We can get our groove on like we did at that party last weekend...hmm?"

"I'd rather not have my lip busted again, thank you," she replies dryly.

Her remark catches Phil's attention, and he promptly sets his bucket on the ground. "Owen busted your lip? What'd he do?" He chuckles. "Bite you?"

"I hate to spoil your fun, Phil, but I was elbowed."

"Yeaaah..I got kinda sucked into the song..." Owen adds with a wince. "Really sorry about that, Via."

"I know. You said that over and over again. I got it. Especially after your very loud announcement from atop the staircase."

"Public apology, Owen?" Phil gives him a quick thumbs up. "Classy."

"Oh yes, very classy, Phil," Via snorts.

"A grand gesture like that is always classy."

"Thanks, dude," Owen replies with a wide, appreciative grin.

Via nods slowly. "Sure it is... I've no qualms about the intentions behind such a gesture, but I--"

"Was I not loud enough?" Owen asks fearfully. "Did the people in the back not hear it?"

"No, you were plenty loud," she offers reassuringly. "Just..not very clear. If I had to guess, the reason would have been the half-eaten item of food in your mouth..._partially_...in your mouth."

Phil grimaces at the mental image.

"Did I drop some dog?" Owen asks in horror.

"Only on the nearest fifteen people."

Phil laughs. "I should've gone to this party."

"It was the bomb, dude."

"Obviously."

Via narrows her eyes at Phil, and he chuckles and continues to fill his bucket.

Owen claps his hands together and jumps out of the car again. "All right! _This_ one...you're gonna love," he says proudly.

"That's better," Via replies with a smile as the beautiful melody begins to play.

"May I have this dance?" he asks, extending his hand and bowing his head slightly in a very gentlemanly fashion.

Phil glances over at the two of them, trying to predict her reaction, and raising his eyebrows in surprise when she so easily and willing accepts his invitation. He shakes his head and smiles to himself, not sure if he'll ever get used to seeing them together without the usual snappy, sarcastic comments. He quietly chuckles. On second thought, snappy, sarcastic comments are actually still very much a part of Via and Owen despite their budding relationship.

As they slowly sway to the music, he watches them closely. The way they stand so near to each other, the way his arm curves around her waist, and the way she smiles...

He remembers a few of the times he danced like that with Keely... dancing in his garage as 'just' friends... in her bedroom while their books lay forgotten on the floor... at the back-to-school dance... in the park that night under the moonlight... that night when she returned the confession he had shared with her a few weeks before on that crazy Valentine's Day... that night he completely surrendered to her...

...forever...

Owen twirls her around, nearly losing his balance and flinging Via at the hood of the car, but he quickly finds his footing and pulls her back, close to his chest. She rolls her eyes and he shrugs sheepishly and then she makes an unexpected sound. Phil shakes his head again. He's not sure if he's ever heard Via giggle quite like that...

A soft and low sound echoes in his mind... and he can almost feel her breath tickling his neck... and hear the uncontrollable, continuous giggles that flow together until one is not distinguishable from the others... and see her face redden from the lack of oxygen... and how she grabs her aching sides... and then gasps for air and laughs again... and then quietly hiccups when the laughter finally fades...

Via raises her eyebrow as Owen attempts to dip her. Wisely, for once, he takes the silent warning under consideration. That look...

The image of the look she's given him many times comes to mind... that slender eyebrow raising ever so slightly... just enough to get her point across... and the faint lines appearing on her forehead... the lines she worries are premature signs of aging from stress...

The song ends and Owen leads Via by the hand to the car where she takes a seat on the hood and he leans up against it, next to her, close by her side, their hands still intertwined.

Phil looks down at his own hand. Tiny particles of rock and dirt cling to his palm, but it's so empty...

Via speaks in a quiet voice, looking down at the freshly waxed surface of the hood, running her free hand along its slickness, smiling softly, telling a story meant only for him to hear. And Owen chuckles and nods his head, gazing at her face, never glancing away...

They used to sit together like that... hand in hand... while she rambled about some nonsensical thing and he listened so intently as if the very words she spoke revealed life's greatest and deepest secrets... with her thumb traveling over his skin in the softest graze... her voice gently lulling him into perfect contentment...

Owen mumbles something Phil cannot hear and Via playfully smacks his arm. He bursts into loud laughter as she continues to scold him but with the hint of a smile upon her face...

If he could only remember how many times she had pinched his arm or poked him in the ribs... for making a crack about her borderline disturbingly scary and insane love for shopping... for teasing her mercilessly about her classroom dazes... for joking about how she so actively and adamantly participated in the campaign to increase the number of parking spaces at the mall... for not taking her regard for all the homeless kittens of the world seriously... and for rolling his eyes even as he beams with pride and awe when she risks ridicule to be nice to the unpopular crowd...

"Are you trying to telekinetically lift that rock and throw it in the bucket?"

"What?" he asks after a beat, realizing that he's being addressed. Via points at the ground near his feet. "Oh...yeah..."

"Are you all right, Phil?"

"Uh huh," he replies bending down to grab the rock. "Hey, you know if there's somewhere else you two'd rather be... I got this." If they're going to sit there and watch him do all the work, they should just leave. Then he can go home, get the Wizrd, and put himself out of this misery.

"I don't have anywhere to be... Owen?"

"I'm good."

"Well, since you're both here..." Phil gestures to the ground. "Wanna help?"

Via holds up her hand. "Sorry. New manicure." Phil rolls his eyes and returns to his task. "I'm kidding," she replies with a laugh, pushing herself off the car. "Of course, I'll help."

He smiles his thanks and hands her an empty bucket. Via turns back to the car. "Ahem."

"Uhhh..."

"Come on, Owen," Phil teases, giving Via a little smirk. "I bet later she'll make it all worth your while..."

"Gimme a bucket!" he exclaims, vigorously springing forward.

"Feel free to fill it up but," Via warns with a point of her finger in his direction, "_without _any expectations."

Owen looks to Phil for some feedback, but he shrugs and pretends to examine the rock in his hand while trying hard to keep the smile off his face. "Uhh...does...that mean I still get a reward later for my efforts?"

Phil's stifled laughter breaks free from the confines of his tightly pressed lips, and Via cuts her eyes over at him, daring him to keep it up. "Not another word, Phil," she instructs.

After filling a dozen large buckets, they set them near the path to be hauled off later, as per their instructions, and after complaining about their inability to continue until their empty stomachs are satisfied, Owen offers to drive back into town for some refreshments. And after he and Via debated on who should pay for the meals, and after they had proceeded to settle the debate with a coin toss, due to Owen's insistence but much to Via reluctance, the car had sped off carrying a very happy occupant.

Sometime throughout the escalating ordeal, Phil had managed to slip off to the pond.

He sits on the rocky bank, distractedly breaking off pieces from a small stick and flipping them into the water, watching them float aimlessly.

"Looks like we'll be finished here soon."

"Yeah," he replies, staring into the smooth glassy water reflecting the gray clouds. "Thanks for helping."

Via frowns as she takes a seat on a flat stone next to him. "May I ask you a question, Phil?"

"No."

"No?"

He sighs. "I know what you're gonna ask."

"Then what is the answer?" she replies, never missing a beat, but he simply pulls his knees to his chest and turns his head to watch the dried stalks of cattails sway as a light breeze begins to blow. Via gives him a brief moment to wallow in his self-pity before teasing him with a serious threat. "I'll put every single one of those rocks in my bucket back on the ground."

"Go ahead," he says in a quiet voice, keeping his face hidden from her. "It's a stupid idea anyway..."

"It's a very sweet idea, Phil."

"Yeah..." A bitter laugh escapes him. "I'm a real thoughtful guy."

"You are." When he doesn't respond, she adds, "Look at all the work you've done..." She reaches out to touch his bare forearm with her fingertips, "and only because you want to see her happy again."

He glances down at the contact, wishing the warmth came from another source... He shakes his head and shifts his position so that the contact breaks. "This isn't gonna make her happy again..." He hangs his head and whispers, "I can't give her what'll make her happy again. I can't give her anything..."

"Phil...I--"

"Besides," he interrupts. "I'm doing this in case she..." He looks up at Via with a sad look in his eyes. "Is that really all that thoughtful, Via? Because I've been thinking about it and...if someone did this for you...and you were really sick and you might..." The pain shooting through his chest as the dagger pierces his heart keeps him from finishing that particular sentence. He expels a long breath and gazes out across the pond to the tall pine trees stretching into the gray sky.

"How would you feel about that?"

"I'd be very grateful," she replies honestly.

"You'd be grateful for a just in case this is the only chance you get to do this before you..." The dagger strikes again, and he mentally berates himself for his weakness.

"You can say it, Phil," she offers sympathetically.

"I really can't," he whispers, almost shamefully.

"Maybe you should."

"I don't want to say it, Via," he snaps, turning to face her. "Just drop it. I don't need you to start another therapy session, ok? Do you know what happened last time I took your advice? My girlfriend broke up with me."

She shakes her head in disappointment. "And you wonder why."

"Excuse me?" he asks sharply.

"I'd do the same," she replies, unaffected by his tone.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Via looks him straight in the eyes. "You never took my advice because you never told her how you feel; however, you expected so much from her."

Phil scoffs. "Is that Keely talking or you?"

"Both of us, actually."

He rolls his eyes. "Well, she wasn't exactly forthcoming either."

"I thought she had told you exactly how she felt about things," Via replies, a bit confused by the contradictory information.

"She wasn't completely honest."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," he says as his gaze becomes distantly focused on the other side of the pond again. "I didn't spend the last two years loving her more than life itself without learning a few things about her brand of honesty."

"I'm sorry, Phil. I'm not trying to attack you."

He glances at her with a softer expression. "I know. You're just trying to help like everyone's just trying to help...but...I wish everyone would understand that...they can't."

"Well on that rather defeatist note...why are you doing all this then?"

"Because I'm a thoughtful guy, remember?" he replies with a smirk.

"No, because you, as you said, love her more than life itself. That was your initial reason, wasn't it? Has that changed?"

He looks down at the ground between them. "No..." He shrugs. "But we're not together anymore so..."

"That shouldn't matter."

"You and Owen will show her a good time," he says without having the courage to look at her, knowing the disappointment she'll express.

"You're not coming?"

"I doubt she'd want me here." Via rolls her eyes and clicks her tongue. "Say what's on your mind, Via..." He sighs and scoops up a handful of pebbles and tosses them into the pond. "Nothing's ever stopped you before," he mutters.

"You know..." she begins, letting his utterance slide by without any regard, "For someone who has spent two years loving her, you sure do have a few more things to learn."

"You're gonna give me a lesson on all things Keely?" he asks raising his eyebrows. "I think I know just about everything there is to know about her," he scoffs. "But thanks anyway."

"Yes...I'm sure you do know just about everything there is to know about her..._except_ for one thing, apparently."

"What's that?" he ask in a bored voice.

"You don't seem to know how much she loves you, Phil."

He glances away again.

"But I do," Via continues. "It was obvious before but now..." She pauses, allowing him time to meet her eyes. "I've spent nearly every afternoon with her since she broke up with you, Phil, and she simply isn't the same person without you."

He quickly looks back at the water, the surface rippling in the gentle wind. "Well, I guess since she broke up with me, she'd rather be whoever she is now."

Via groans, tossing her head back in disbelief and annoyance. "Would you listen to yourself?" He cuts his eyes over at her. "I always thought you actually had a clue, Phil, but you are nearly as pathetic as Owen when it comes to understanding women."

He opens his mouth to protest, but she cuts him off by raising her hand and shaking her head. "No, you are now below Owen." He frowns, and Via eases up a bit, thinking perhaps she went to far with that one. "You're a smart guy, Phil. Think for a moment... Why did she break up with you?"

"She said she didn't want to hurt me... But that's ridiculous! We're not together and it still hurts. Where's her logic?"

"She wants to spare you pain, Phil, and to do that she'll let you go even though she wants to be with you. Caring about someone so unselfishly as that doesn't require logic."

He glances away, allowing his brain to comprehend her words.

"Think about how you two were before any of this happened," she says gently.

He stares blankly at her.

"Do it," she firmly commands.

_"Ok_..." he replies, recoiling the slightest bit from her strict order.

"How did you love her before?"

How did he love her before the nightmare of the last few months? Searching deep within the memories, the answer materializes right in front of him.

He loved her like a summer rain shower soaking his skin...every time her hand touched his...a sweet aroma drifting along the breeze in the spring...every time he breathed in the air of their embrace...a cool night in autumn...every time he shivered when her lips found his ...a warmth against the chill of winter...with every thought of her...

He loved her without restraint, without worry. He loved her naturally and easily; it was just the two of them... wildly running through the maze of love... lost in its twists and turns... but together... and more than happy to be there.

A faint sign of bliss dances across his features as he thinks of her.

Via nods approvingly. "Now...what are you going to do?"

He smiles. "What're the terms of your payment plan?"

"My payment plan?"

"Well, the therapy session's over, isn't it?"

"Clever." She ponders that for a moment and then shrugs. "Just set the universe right again before it implodes. That'll do."

He chuckles. "Are you positive _you_ aren't responsible for upsetting the universe, Via?"

She raises her eyebrow to warn him, but the concedes, "That's actually an excellent point."

"Hey..speaking of universal implosion...did he get lost?" Phil asks, glancing over his shoulder to where Owen's car was parked nearly an hour ago.

Via nods. "We may very well starve out here."

"I think I saw a squirrel around here somewhere..." he replies, rising to his feet and scanning the grove of trees.

"Shall I gather materials to make the trap?" she asks, standing up next to him, dusting off her jeans.

"Yes. And some firewood."

"But we need something to use as bait."

Phil quickly digs into his pocket. "I've got this," he says, producing a small pack of gum.

Via shakes her head. "No, squirrels prefer the dentist recommended kind."

"I forgot," he says with a sigh, stuffing the pack back into his pocket.

"Phil?"

"Yeah?"

Via smiles. "She will love this. Whatever the circumstances may be by that time, she'll love it."

"She better..." he says pointing his finger at her, "or it's your fault."

She rolls her eyes and steps off the rocky bank into the knee-high weeds. "And one more thing..." she says, glancing over her shoulder. "You still have time to take that advice."

Phil begins to say something, but the roar of a familiar engine and a loud voice shouting from the open window interrupts him.

"I've got tacos!"

Via waves at him as he pulls the car to a rough stop. Phil leans closer to her and says quietly, "I thought we ordered Chinese."

"He gets a little confused sometimes about these things," she replies in a quick whisper.

"Oh yeah..." Phil says, realizing his mistake. "I know. He thought you were Canadian." He frowns. "He might still."

"Well, that explains the bumper sticker he gave me."

"But you don't have a car."

"And that would stop him from buying me a car accessory?"

He laughs as they make their way towards Owen, who is currently having a great deal of trouble balancing the sacks of food and drinks. Something falls from one of the sacks onto the ground. Owen, unaware that he is being watched, quickly sets the other items on the hood and checks the contents of the fallen item.

"I...uh...got you a burrito, Phil!" he loudly shouts over his shoulder, grabbing it up, repositioning the wrapper, and depositing it in a sack.

Phil watches him with a disgusted expression. "Via...can I ask _you_ a question now?"

"Absolutely not."

"Hey!" Owen says in surprise as they approach. He fishes for the burrito and passes it to its new, unintended, owner. "Here ya go."

Phil musters a smile. "Thanks, Owen."

He grins and hands him a large drink before politely and dramatically offering a smaller sack to Via. "Thank you," she replies with a kind smile, stomping down on the urge to roll her eyes at him.

Phil takes a brave glimpse under the wrapper. A blade of brown grass and a few other tiny particles of an unknown origin stick to the tortilla. "Yeah...thanks," he mutters.

"What was that, man?"

"Looks good."

Owen gives him a thumbs up and busies himself with making room on the hood for Via to sit comfortably to enjoy her lunch.

"I'm gonna...go...sit on the bank, guys."

"Cool," Owen replies around a mouth full of taco, strips of lettuce and shredded cheese dangling from the corners of his lips, one on his chin.

The very little remainder of Phil's appetite is quickly lost. He sighs heavily, trying to ignore the grumbling in his stomach and walks back to the pond. There he attempts to clean off the burrito, but in the process he discovers even more unappealing additions to the ingredients and decides that shoving the food under a large rock is a better idea than consuming it.

He glances up as the wind increases in strength and brushes through the tops of the pine trees. The soft rustling of needles and quiet creaking of thin branches accompanied by the low buzzing of noises surrounding the pond allows for the perfect opportunity for his mind to wander...

To her.

He smiles. Always to her, he thinks. But then his smiles fades as the heaviness returns. He misses her. The past two weeks have been torture. Stopping by her room for only a few minutes at a time, talking about trivial things, avoiding any serious discussions, pretending that he isn't experiencing an incredible amount of pain every time he sees her but can't hold her...

Perhaps Via is right. Perhaps Keely isn't the same person since they returned to friendship, a very shaky friendship.

It's true, the voice inside his mind tells him. And he knows it. He just thought she was playing along with the game, same as he was, but now...

Maybe she hasn't been Keely because he hasn't been Phil.

And if that's true...

He has to admit...

She must love him as much as he loves her.


	9. Chapter 9

I never could get the results I intended for this chapter to have, but if I don't keep moving with the story, it'll never be finished so...yeah.

Chapter Nine

He checks the fluorescent green bag again for the tenth time since he entered the hospital, trying to convince himself that it's a good decision, the object itself and giving it to her.

Glancing up the hallway, he sees her mom closing the door to her room. She notices him too and smiles weakly. The lack of her sunny disposition immediately sounds a warning bell in his mind.

"What's wrong?" he asks cautiously, coming to a slow stop a few feet from her.

"She's not feeling too well today, Phil," she says tenderly. "Maybe you can come back tomorrow."

He swallows nervously. "Is she...ok?"

Mandy carefully considers the best way to approach the subject. "This morning she noticed..." She sighs sadly. "She's started losing some of her hair... and she's upset about it."

"But that's it? I mean, she's all right?"

"She's taking it pretty hard, Phil."

"Can I see her?"

Mandy replies softly, trying not to hurt his feelings, "She doesn't want to see anyone."

"I don't understand," he mumbles quietly.

"She just needs some time to adjust to what's happening."

He shakes his head. "I need to talk to her."

Against her daughter's wishes, she nods and moves off down the hallway, leaving Phil to stare at the door. He adjusts the strap on his shoulder, inhales an adequate amount of air, and pushes it open.

"Keel?"

She's sitting on the bed, her eyes puffy and red, but the tears are not flowing anymore. He studies her closely, trying to see the change, but it's not obvious to him.

"I'm not in the mood for a visit right now," she says unemotionally, casting her eyes down at the yellow blanket covering her lap.

"You..." He lets the door fall closed and steps closer to her bed. "You expected this... right?"

She nods slowly. "Yeah.. I did..but I just don't want it all to fall out really fast."

"Maybe it won't." He says, trying to offer some kind of encouragement. "But...even if it does...it doesn't matter."

She glares at him. "It matters to me."

He gingerly eases down into the armchair. "I just meant that...you know...it doesn't matter to me or to anyone else."

"Whatever..." she responds with a sharp bark of laughter. "Just one more thing to add to the long list of things that are wrong with me."

"Well...as far as I'm concerned...there's only one thing wrong with you." She raises her eyebrow, and he smiles softly. "You don't have a smile on your face." The one I'm completely powerless to resist, he adds to himself.

"What do I have to smile about, Phil?" she asks wearily.

"How about...this?" he asks, holding up the bag.

She frowns.

"Well that didn't work," he says with a sigh, perplexed about her unexpected reaction.

"You..bought me...a gift..." she says slowly, trying to understand why he'd do such a thing for no apparent reason especially in light of their recent shift in status.

"Yep."

"What's the occasion?" she asks, unintentionally voicing her thoughts out loud.

"It's Tuesday," he replies as if that explains everything.

"Huh?"

"There's not any specific occasion..." he replies with a shrug. "Does there have to be?"

"For presents? Nope," she answers in a slightly more characteristic tone, studying the bag with great interest and curiosity.

Phil takes the hint and passes it to her. She eagerly sticks her hand inside, and he smiles, feeling an enormous amount of weight being lifted from his shoulders.

"Alfani cashmere?" she says in disbelief, staring at the object in her hands. "This is...this is an expensive sweater, Phil, I don't... How'd you afford this?"

"Let's just say...I owe Pim a lot more now."

"Oh my gosh..." She rakes her fingers across the fibers. "This is so cool..." She glances up at him and smiles the first genuine smile he has seen in a while. "Thank you."

"Well, what're you waiting for? Put it on."

"Right now?"

"Sure."

"With you sitting there?"

"Nothing I haven't seen before."

"I meant--"

"I know..." he responds, shaking his head, not needing her to explain; he knows exactly what she meant, and he'd rather not hear that right now. "Just slip it over your t-shirt." She does, though somewhat reluctantly. "How's it feel?"

"Amazing," she replies, closing her eyes to savor the feel of the exquisite texture against her skin, but then her smile disappears as she opens her eyes and glances down at the sweater.

"What?" he asks carefully.

"Is this the only color you could find?" He frowns, and she quickly replies, "This is fine."

The door opens and Dee steps through with a wide grin. "Hello, kiddos...ooh...nice threads, Keely. Here's that milk you requested," she says setting a pint-sized carton on the table by the bed. "And I'll be back with dinner in a little while."

"Ugh."

Dee smiles. "Don't worry. I had Mike cook up a little special something for you."

"Thanks, Dee."

She waves at Phil as she heads to the door. "Nice choice by the way, but..." she says, pausing at the threshold, "is that the only color they had?" He looks at Keely, raising his eyebrows as Dee smiles cheerfully. "Good to see ya, Phil," she says before exiting the room.

"Unbelievable," he mumbles, slouching in the chair. Keely chuckles, and he glances up at her while nonchalantly twiddling his thumbs. "So...who's...Mike?"

She shrugs and continues to examine the newest and possibly best addition to her collection of clothes. "Just a guy."

"Just a guy...that happens to be cooking you a special something..."

"He's like 70, Phil," she replies, wanting to smile at his less than subtle attempt at casual, but also feeling a little awkward about it.

"Oh," he says in a small voice, looking down at his lap to hide his embarrassment.

Keely shakes off the feeling. "He's Dee's friend. He says that I remind him of his granddaughter so whenever there's something on the menu that I don't like, he fixes me up with something that I _do_ like."

"Cool. Always a good thing to have some inside pull."

"Yeah."

"Soo...uh..." He clears his throat and unzips his backpack. "I brought something else."

"Virtu-Goggles?" she asks, glancing at the door.

"It's all right..." he replies with a smile. "I'll keep a watchful eye and stash 'em away if somebody comes in."

"No...I meant..." She sighs. "What're you doing?"

He moves to stand at the side of her bed and holds out a pair. "I thought we'd have a little spring break celebration at the--"

"Phil."

"--beach maybe? No annoying tourists _or_ robots, I promise. Just you and--"

"_Phil_."

"...me..." He draws the goggles back to his side. "What?"

"What are you doing?" she repeats slowly to make sure he answers her correctly this time.

He shrugs. "You don't want to dip your toes in some virtual ocean water? Feel a little virtual tropical sunshine and breeze?"

"I don't want to do this."

"Ok...we don't have to..." he replies, stuffing the goggles back into his bag. "I guess we could...play Go Fish instead...or..." He frowns at the deep crease in her forehead. "Do nothing..."

"What are you doing, Phil?"

"You've all ready asked that."

"Well, if you'd answer me, I won't have to anymore," she snaps, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I'm just trying to do something nice for you..." he says quietly, looking down at his feet, anywhere to not have to see the way she's physically shielding herself from him.

"But why?" she asks in a softer tone.

"Because it's you..." he replies, glancing up at her through his lashes. "And I want to."

"But we're not..." She sighs and tucks a dry, thin strand of hair behind her ear. "Are you pretending this isn't weird for you or does it really not bother you?"

"This what?"

"This!" she exclaims, raising her arms for emphasis. "You being here and being all...like..."

"A friend?"

"No." She shakes her head. "I mean yes...but...it's different now."

"Are you saying we're not friends?"

"I don't know what we are but we're not...together anymore so..."

He sits in the chair again, rests his elbows on his thighs, and looks up at her with an exhaustion in his eyes she's never seen before. "You broke up with me, Keely...but that didn't change the way I feel about you." She bows her head, unable to withstand the sight of the hurt in his face any longer. Phil nods slowly and grabs the strap of his backpack. "But if you don't want me here...I can--"

"It's not that, Phil," she says quickly lifting her head.

"Then what is it?" he asks gently, letting the strap fall from his hand to the floor.

"It's..." She hesitates for a few seconds, and then shakes her head. "Nothing."

"Keely," he says with a heavy sigh. "We need to talk..." He furrows his brow. "Again."

"And say what?"

"I've tried to do this your way and tried to be reasonable with your reasons but...well...your reasons aren't reasonable."

"What does that mean?"

"You don't want us to be together because you think you're keeping me from some great thing life has to offer me but...Keely...that's you... You're keeping me from you and...nothing else."

The honesty in his eyes is not something she can remember ever witnessing before... And he has spoken many true words to her, words that come from his heart but what she sees now is of the most raw kind of honesty.

"I don't have to be your boyfriend to hurt when you're hurting...or to love you..." he nearly whispers, feeling the strength of his voice begin to dissipate. "You're not doing me a favor by breaking up with me, thinking that's going to make you feel less guilty..or whatever..." He pauses, trying to formulate his thoughts even as he speaks them. "Boyfriend or not...I'm still here."

She expels a soft breath, having realized she had been holding it while he spoke. Slowly, she pulls her blanket back, sets her feet on the floor, and stands up. Phil watches her every movement trying to calculate the nature of her reaction.

"Do you wanna go for a walk with me?" she asks after several seconds of silence.

He's a bit taken back by her response, and he's not entirely sure what to make of it, but at least she's not asking him if he'd like to take a walk by himself. That's good enough for him.

He nods and they mutely make their way out the door. As they leisurely walk through the halls, they do not speak, but she does inch the smallest distance closer to him with every turn of a corner.

Eventually, she leads him into an elevator.

"Where're we going?" he asks as she punches the button for the third floor.

"Up," she vaguely replies, leaning her back against the wall without another word.

Phil nods and waits for the door to open again.

"I come here sometimes," she says, stepping out of the elevator into the mad rush.

"Why?" Phil asks, glancing at up at the sign indicating their current location within the hospital.

"You'll see," Keely replies, walking towards a set of double doors.

On the other side, a woman in a light blue terrycloth robe slowly shuffles along the brightly lit hallway colored by fanciful murals on the walls.

"Uhh...she's..."

"Pregnant?" Keely offers with the hint of a smile as she watches Phil curiously observe the woman.

"Huge," he whispers once they've passed by her.

"That's kinda what happens to most women carrying around another human being, Phil. They get a little big in the middle."

"Yeah..I know.." he replies with a faint smirk. "But she's..." He glances back over his shoulder. "Exceptionally large."

Keely rolls her eyes. "Would you quit staring at her?"

"Shouldn't she be in a bed or something?" he asks, a bit of worry in his voice when he sees the woman wince and place her hand under the curve of her stomach.

"Labor techniques are a little different than most movies let on, Phil."

"She's in labor?" he asks with wide eyes.

"Uh..yeah...I guess so since that's usually the part of the whole process when the hospital comes into play."

He glances back at her again. "What if she...I mean..."

Keely shakes her head. "She's probably only in the beginning stages."

"How can you tell?"

"Well..." she replies with a shrug, "she's not screaming in pain so I figure her contractions are pretty mild right now."

"How do you know all this?" Phil asks, still watching the woman with an odd fascination, and nearly smacking into Keely's back as she comes to an abrupt halt.

"I paid attention in health class..." she replies, cutting her eyes over at him. "Unlike someone I know."

"What?" he asks when she rolls her eyes. "That stuff would've been disturbing if I _wasn't_ from the future." Keely just shakes her head and turns her attention to what's in front of them. Phil carefully peers through the glass. "I can't believe they put them on display like this."

"People in the future don't do this either?"

"No, not with babies." He shrugs. "But you're more than welcome to stand behind a plate of glass and admire your new bundle of _robotic_ joy if you wish."

"You know...future malls are really the only thing I'm impressed with."

But Phil's not listening to her; instead, his focus rests upon a tightly swaddled bundle of the non-robotic variety of joy. "Awww...look at that one. She's so calm." He taps the glass lightly and grins. "Hey there little one," he says in a very unmasculine way. "Hi there. Ohh..you're so cute."

And Keely's face beams with amusement...and something else she's unaware of at the moment.

"That's my little Franklin Jr. over there," says a kind voice from behind them.

They both turn to see a very tall and robust elderly woman with jet black hair streaked in gray tied into a messy bun, with thick bifocals resting on a rather crooked nose, and, as far as Keely's concerned, with far too deep a color of eyeshadow for a woman of any age.

The woman grins a less than full toothed grin and points her finger adorned with an unusually long and brightly painted nail at the glass.

"Oh.." Keely says with a half smile. "He's..um..really..long."

"Thank you, dear," the old woman croaks, proudly lifting her sharp chin. "He takes after his grandmother."

Phil and Keely exchange a glance and have to bite down on their tongues to keep from bursting into the fits of laughter that are bubbling up inside them both.

"Which one is yours, Daddy?" she teases, leaning close to Phil to nudge his shoulder.

Carefully, as to not draw too much attention to himself, he shifts his feet just enough to escape the strong odor of the heavily perfumed, yet very kind old lady.

"Umm...I'm not--"

"He doesn't know?" she interrupts, turning to Keely with a sympathetic expression on her wrinkled face. "Was he even in the delivery room with you, darling?"

She chuckles. "No, we...none of them are..." She gestures with her hand at Phil. "Ours... We...I... We're just visiting," she finishes quickly after finally finding the words she was searching for.

"Oh...well," the woman replies, flicking her gaze over Keely. "I thought you looked a little thin to have popped a bun out of the oven." She warily glances over at Phil. "And that he looked a little young to be making a bun..."

Phil frowns and Keely bites down on her lip to stifle her laughter. "Yeah..." she says with a smile, giving her flat stomach a pat. "No bun has ever been in this oven."

He snorts quietly, and she narrows her eyes at him while the old woman talks to her spitting image again. "Goodbye itty bitty Frankie. Your granny loves you very very very very very..."

Phil and Keely raise their eyebrows simultaneously.

"...very very very very much." She kisses her hand and places it against the glass, leaving a smudged set of lips there.

Phil grimaces as the elderly woman turns to Keely. "Well, I better be on my way now."

She smiles politely as the stranger very slowly walks away. "Hmm."

He chuckles. "Exactly."

Keely gazes through the glass again, careful to avoid the red lipstick. Suddenly, Phil finds himself no longer wondering about the event that just occurred but completely transfixed on the girl standing next to him, watching the group of babies each in their individual...

He frowns as he realizes he doesn't know the name of the clear plastic containers holding each newborn infant, some of which are personalized with bows or teddy bears or glittery name tags.

But he easily disregards that thought when a soft smile spreads across Keely's face and when her eyes light up as little fingers flex into a tight fist and as a tiny mouth widely stretches from a yawn much too big for such a small person.

The look on her face...

He has seen how caring and gentle she can be, and he has seen the tenderness she can possess, but he has never seen such softness as he does now. And as he realizes where it comes from, his entire body is flooded with a warmth he has never felt in his whole life until this moment with her right now.

"What?"

He blinks at the sound of her voice as it draws him back from his reverie. "What?"

Her brow slightly furrows. "Why are you looking at me that way?"

"I just...never thought of you like that..." he mumbles.

"Like what?"

"Nothing," he replies with a small smile, turning to look through the glass. "Look...she's asleep. How does she sleep with the others crying?"

But Keely doesn't answer him or even hear his question as her mind attempts to answer her own question which he so casually ignored.

"I get why you'd want to come here," he says, smiling at the sleeping baby girl nearest to the glass. "They're so--"

"Lucky," Keely says as her thoughts return to the present.

"I was gonna say adorable but..uh..." He glances over at her to find her staring blankly through the glass, her gaze not focused on anything in particular. "Keely?"

"They're the only lucky ones," she says in a distant voice.

Phil frowns. "I don't think that I would use the word _only_..."

She looks down at the newborn girl. "They have their whole lives in front of them..." She sighs and runs her fingertip across the cool, smooth metal at the bottom of the glass window. "And when I'm standing here...they make me think that...my whole life is in front of me too."

Phil nods, letting her words soak in. "That's kinda funny..." Keely raises her eyebrow at him, but he doesn't look at her; instead, for a moment, he keeps his gaze on the face of the slumbering child. "Standing here with you...I know that..." he says quietly, finally turning to face her, "My whole life really is in front of me."

She stares at him for a long minute, unmoving, unthinking until an urge springing forth from deep within her propels her into action, and without any conscious effort, she leans over to place a mere breath of a kiss to his cheek.

"I made a mistake," she says abruptly, pulling back from him.

Phil's head lowers the slightest bit. "Oh...yeah...I underst--"

"No, _that _wasn't the mistake..."

Feeling the majority of his apprehension disappear in the blink of an eye, Phil breathes a silent sigh and glances at her again.

"I just...sometimes I'm afraid that all this stuff that's happening..." She averts his gaze, choosing to look at her fuzzy slippers instead. "I'm afraid you're gonna wake up and smell the roses one day and realize that...you don't want me anymore."

"That will never happen, Keel."

"But that's the way I feel," she mumbles while wringing her hands. "Breaking up with you... I thought it would be the best thing for both of us."

"And...what do you think now?"

She raises her head to look at him. "I think it was the stupidest thing I've ever done," she replies sadly as if any chance to correct her mistake exists.

He takes her by the hand, no longer able to deny himself the need. Their fingers easily slide into place, fluidly threading together despite the time that has passed since they last touched. "I think so too," he whispers, caressing her skin with the pad of his thumb while a playful glimmer shines in his eyes.

"Now I really, really don't deserve you."

"Well..." he replies with a slight wince, remembering the consequence to a particular choice of words he uttered not so long ago after a similar admission from her. "I'm not gonna comment on that this time...but I will say..."

"How you feel?" she offers. He nods. "Good. I could use a hint or two," she jokes.

The smile that her teasing brought to his face disappears. "I feel like I'm not doing anything right...and that...I'm not helping you."

"Helping me?"

"I.. don't think I've been.._there _for you the way I should be." He shrugs, glancing down at their joined hands. "And then there's the donor thing..."

"That's not your fault, Phil."

"I guess I kinda thought that...well.. maybe that was the reason I..."

"Don't worry about it," she says giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "They'll find someone. Besides, that's still..." She decides against going down that road right now. "They'll find someone," she repeats, trying to sound confident not only for his benefit but for her own.

He slowly nods. "Sooo...we're...cool?"

"Well, _I_ feel bad because I don't want you to be burdened with my problems and _you_ feel bad because you don't think you're burdened enough..."

"That pretty much sums it up."

"Then yeah..." she answers with a grin. "We're definitely cool."

"Yeah," he agrees with a chuckle as a young girl about their age steps up next to them.

"Hi...pardon me...just wanted to get a picture or two."

Phil maneuvers himself and Keely out of the way. "Oh, no problem. Sorry about that."

"It's all right," she replies, focusing her lens on the sleeping baby up front. "My niece," she says to them after snapping a few shots.

"Yeah, I think my boyfriend's fallen in love with that one," Keely says, playfully rolling her eyes the slightest bit. Phil instantly perks up.

"She's precious, isn't she?" the young girl asks.

"Very." Keely agrees.

"I just had to get a shot of her sleeping to send to my dad." She rolls her eyes dramatically. "He swore the entire nine months that she would be a little hell-raiser. I just gotta prove him wrong."

"She might be the silent kind of trouble maker," Keely offers. "You really have to watch out for them."

"I hadn't thought of that," the girl admits. "Thanks for the heads up," she replies with a laugh before quickly walking away.

"So you ready to g... What?" she asks upon seeing the huge grin plastered to Phil's face.

"You called me...boyfriend."

"So?"

"Ohhh...it's like that, huh?"

She tugs on his hand. "Come on," she says glancing around them. "It's getting a little crowded in here."

He nods eagerly, and she laughs as she pulls him down the hallway to the double doors. They walk slowly, keeping each other close, their arms touching, and their fingers woven together in a tight embrace as they make their journey back to her room.

"Hey..." she says walking inside and gesturing to the window. "It's not cloudy."

"Yeeahh...that's great, Keel," Phil replies, giving the sky a quick glance as he taps his fingers against the covered tray resting on the table next to her bed. "Your _special_ dinner's here."

"It's been cloudy for days," she says, letting go of his hand as she moves to the window.

"Yesss..." he says, coming to stand beside her.

She leans her head on his shoulder. He smiles and takes her hand in his again. And as she gazes at the brilliant deep pink and red glow gleaming off the high clouds above the horizon, she breathes a soft relaxed sigh, and quietly chuckles at the sound of the voice in her mind.

Phil glances over at her. "What's so funny?"

"Just something Dee said to me about the sunset."

He nods. "Ohh..yeah...I think I heard this one. Stop and watch the sun go down sometime?"

"Uh..no," she replies slowly, curious about exactly what Dee talks to her boyfriend about. "Something about sailors waiting for a red sunset and avoiding red sunrises so they don't get caught in bad weather."

Phil wrinkles his nose in confusion. "Hey Keel...do you think Dee's kinda..."

"Weird?"

"That's the word I was looking for," he says, snapping his fingers.

As they gaze at the fading light, he scoffs. "Predicting the weather from the color of the sunset... crazy. All sunsets and sunrises are red, unless they're muted by pollution in the air. It's all just a matter of the other colors of the spectrum being scattered along a beam of light leaving red as the only color to travel the entire length of the beam during the only two times of the day when sunlight must cross the longest distance through the atmosphere."

Keely rolls her eyes, moves to the bed, and proceeds to eat her dinner. Phil shrugs and continues to explain the scientific phenomena to the darkening landscape outside the window.

But she smiles, happy to have him here with her even if he's being annoyingly smart.

And even though it apparently doesn't mean anything and even though the last one she saw didn't bring good weather, she still hopes for something better from tonight's sunset.

But as she watches him continue with his lecture, she can clearly see that the good weather has all ready arrived.

Now all she has to do is hope that it lasts.


	10. Chapter 10

Wow...numerous emails to Disney and an update... I don't think I've ever been so productive in a single day. Strange.

Chapter Ten

"You're gonna be in so much trouble if you get caught doing this, you know that right?"

He nervously glances in the rear view mirror. "Why do you think I'm going so slow?"

"Driving extremely slow is just as good a reason to pull someone over as going way too fast." She laughs. "And then you're gonna have to explain _this_," she says pointing at her face.

Phil gives her a sideways glance. "Good point." He checks the road behind them again, but there is nothing but empty highway and the glow from the town's lights behind them. "So if you hear sirens, take that thing off."

"I don't know..." she replies with a smile. "Might be fun to hear the story you come up with to convince the officer you're a licensed driver even though you have nothing but a flimsy little permit to show for _and_ that you're not some psycho who's abducted an innocent young woman."

"I'll just tell him the truth. He'll probably understand."

"Of course...'cause I'm sure the police hear the 'I'm dragging my blindfolded _girlfriend_," she stresses with air quotes, "to someplace unknown in the middle of the night to _surprise_.." she emphasizes with air quotes again, "her with a special little _premeditated_," she says using air quotes once more, "something' excuse all the time and never question it."

"Well...not when you say it like _that_," he scoffs, turning the car off onto the unpaved road.

"Oh...bumpy road...hmm..." She shakes her head at her inability to formulate a guess as to what road it may be and to where it may lead. "Well, at least the cops won't be able to find you out in the middle of nowhere."

"Now that's the optimism I was looking for, Keel!" he says with grin, though she's visually oblivious to everything but the darkness the material covering her eyes offers.

"Can you giv--"

"No hints, got it?" he says, pulling the car to a stop.

"Are we here?"

"Yes, we are," he says, stepping out and moving to her side, opening her door and offering his hand.

She stumbles ungracefully out of the car, and he reaches out to steady her before she smacks into the door. "Can I take this thing off now?" she asks in annoyance.

"Not yet."

He glances up ahead at the grove of pine trees near the pond. Everything looks amazingly perfect from here, and he can see Owen and Via milling around, making last minute adjustments before he brings Keely into the small field.

"Owww...what the heck, Phil?" she asks, stumping her toe against a solid object.

"Rock," he replies, taking her by the elbow to help guide her along the dirt path. "Must've missed a few..." he mumbles while searching the ground for any others that might have been overlooked.

"Missed a few?" she asks in confusion.

"Nothing. I got ya." But she doesn't budge forward even an inch. "You trust me, right?"

"I'm not sure if I trust anyone," she says carefully taking a few more small steps as he gently urges her to keep moving, "when I have a scarf tied around my head and I can't...ow!" She shakes her foot to alleviate the pain in her toe. "See anything," she mutters. "So what was that?"

"Another rock," Phil answers, kicking the nuisance out of the way. "This was Owen's quadrant," he mumbles again.

"Did you say quadrant?" she asks, shuffling her feet along the ground cautiously. "Please tell me whatever I'm gonna see when you take this thing off is not gonna be at all related to history."

"Um..actually, Keel, quadrant is a ma--"

"History! I totally forgot!" she exclaims, slapping her hand to her forehead.

"What about it?"

"I gotta finish up that research paper, Phil."

"Keel, relax."

"You are supposed to have that thing turned in for me first thing Monday morning."

"We'll get it done. Don't worry about it."

"Ok."

"Just keep walking," he encourages with a light push.

"Where's that music coming from?" she asks, coming to another halt.

Phil sighs. "A stereo...now can you please walk?"

"Hey, don't get snappy with me, buddy," she warns with a jut of her finger at an unintentional target.

"Ow!" he yelps, covering his right eye.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," she says, reaching for him, but grabbing onto thin air instead. "Where'd you go?"

"I'm over here," he mutters, rubbing at his watery eye. "Just stay right there, Keel."

"What'd I poke?" she asks, facing the direction opposite of where he stands. "It felt kinda squishy."

"My eyeball," he replies, trying to blink the pain away.

"Ew...I'm sorry, Phil. I was aiming for your chest."

He scoffs. "I'm not that tall, Keel."

"Well, excuse me if I'm a little disoriented right now," she replies, placing her hands on her hips. He rolls his eyes. "And don't roll your eyes at me, Phil Diffy. The blindfold was your idea, not mine," she says sternly.

He sighs, wipes the moisture from his injured eye, and slowly takes her by the arm again. "Sorry...let's just forget about that little incident and proceed. Shall we?"

She nods her consent, and they continue to make their way towards the pines. Owen, nearly beside himself with excitement, gives Phil a wave and proudly displays the scene with a grand sweep of his arm. Phil smiles, appreciative of the hard work his friends have put into making the place look gorgeous.

"Is someone else here?" Keely asks, lifting her chin in the air. "I smell...Owen."

"Hey!" he shouts defensively, and Via laughs.

"Via?" Keely inquires.

Phil shakes his head, knowing part of the surprise has been officially ruined. "Yeah...Via and Owen are here."

"I don't smell. Do I?" he asks Via while giving himself a quick sniff.

"I meant I can smell your cologne."

"Oh."

Via chuckles. "I've told him several times to tone it down a bit."

"You have?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

She rolls her eyes. "Never mind." Peering closely at Phil's face, his reddened right eye barely open, she asks, "What happened?"

He gestures at Keely with a jerk of his head.

"Don't nod your head at me either, Phil," Keely warns, crossing her arms over her chest. Via smiles when he straightens his shoulders upon hearing her order. "Can I take this thing off _now_?"

He unties the knot and the scarf gently falls away from her face. "Welcome to your Senior Prom, Keely," he whispers into her ear before stepping back to allow her space to take it all in.

She blinks a few times as her vision adjusts to the soft glow from the strings of small white lights stretching between the trees and the lighted candles on the picnic table covered in a satiny cream-colored cloth.

Four delicate wine glasses, a bottle of sparkling cider resting in ice, and a large platter of sliced fruits, marshmallows, pretzel sticks, and squares of angel food cake next to a steaming fondue pot filled with chocolate cover the top of the table.

A low instrumental melody plays on a portable stereo sitting on a small table surrounded by two vases filled with white and pink roses.

"I...can't believe this...you guys..." She places her hand over her mouth as her eyes glisten in the twinkling lights. She smiles at Via and Owen before turning around. "Phil..." she whispers, choking back her overwhelming emotion. "This is..."

"You like it?" he asks softly with a lopsided grin.

Immediately, she gathers him into her arms, pressing her lips to the curve of his neck. "I love you," she breathes against his skin.

And if he really didn't know it before, he certainly knows it now.

"I'm sorry you don't have your dress," he says when she finally releases her hold on him.

She shakes her head. "Don't be." She glances down at her jeans and new cashmere sweater, at him in his jeans and button up stripped shirt with a simple t-shirt underneath, and then to Owen and Via wearing similar fashions. "Casual prom," she says with a chuckle. "I think we could start a new trend."

Phil shrugs. "Fine by me. That penguin look isn't all it's cracked up to be."

Owen nods. "I hear that, man."

Via agrees. "I wasn't having a bit of luck finding a dress, anyhow."

"You guys are still gonna go to the school's prom, right?"

"I think I'll pass," Via answers her.

"Yeah..." Owen replies with a disappointed sigh. "And that means _I'm_ gonna hafta pass."

Keely frowns. "You two should go." She glances over at Phil. "You _three_ should go."

Via shakes her head. "I haven't any desire to attend a function titled Gangster's Paradise."

"That's the winning theme?" she asks in disbelief. "I thought you had a plan for that, Via."

"Apparently, he is," she says pointing at Owen who is currently bent over the table, attempting to spear a strawberry with his fork, "not the only one that particular idea appealed to."

"What?" he asks after a beat as the others stare at him. "I'm hungry."

Phil chuckles. "Then let's eat."

"And Via, babe..." Owen says while taking a seat at the table. "For the one hundredth time, it's gangsta...not gangster."

"Whatever," she mumbles as she sits next to him and raises her eyebrow. "And for the two hundredth time, do not call me 'babe'."

Owen promptly straightens his shoulders in much the same manner Phil did earlier, and this time Keely smiles as she and Phil join them at the table.

"Soo..props, Keel?" Owen asks as he piles several items onto his paper plate. "Don't let Phil be takin' all the credit for this shindig."

She smiles. "Definite props, Owen. To all of you."

"I guess Philly boy will be gettin' all the thanks, though," he teases with a suggestive leer.

Via cuts her eyes over at him. "Do you have a problem with that, Owen?"

He's instantly freezes, his loaded, dripping fork poised at his mouth. "Uhh...no?"

"No?"

"Yes?"

"Yes?"

He glances at Phil and Keely. "A lil help, guys?"

They both shake their heads and reply in unison, "You're on your own."

Via laughs. "You two spend too much time together."

Owen leans in close to her. "Am I off the hook?"

She smiles and pats his knee.

After they enjoy the treats until not a morsel remains, thanks to Owen, Phil, with all the physical labor he invested into this place in mind, suggests they make use of the rock-free dance floor. As he leads Keely out into the new grass, a sweet ballad fills the night air.

"Phil," she says in a quiet voice as he holds her close to his chest. "Why did you do all this?"

"Do you really have to ask that, Keel?" he murmurs softly, letting his drowsy eyelids fall as the warmth from her body surrounds him.

"I just..."

He pulls back to look into her eyes as the doubt he thought he'd gotten rid of creeps in. "Was this a bad idea?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well...I didn't know if you'd be able to...go to the other one...so..."

She shakes her head. "I probably wouldn't have gone anyway."

"Then what's wrong?"

"I didn't say anything was wrong, Phil," she replies with a smile.

"But you said th--"

"I didn't finish what I was going to say." She sighs. "And you automatically think what I was gonna say was a bad thing?"

"No...but..." He dips his chin. "Yeah, I guess I did."

She places her palm next to his cool cheek, infusing heat back into his skin. "I was going to say that I can't believe how incredibly amazing you are, Phil."

He glances up at her through his thick lashes. "Oh."

"Yeah...oh," she laughs quietly. "And you were telling _me _to keep a positive attitude?"

"Sorry," he replies meekly.

A deep chuckle seizes her attention, and she turns her head to see Owen and Via dancing nearby. Or she thought they were dancing, but actually Via is trying to free her hair from the zipper of his jacket.

"It's nearly impossible to dance with you," she grumbles as her fingers work to pry the strands of hair from the metal links.

"Need any help, Via?" Keely calls out, suppressing a grin.

"I believe I can manage, thanks."

Phil laughs. "I don't know which relationship is more dangerous, theirs or ours."

"Both are pretty accident prone," Keely admits, watching Via finally shake herself loose.

"I guess that's why we all get along so well."

"Yeah," she replies, returning her attention to him now that the crisis has been resolved. "Well, I won't have to worry about getting my hair caught in your zipper," she says in a dull tone.

Phil nods. "Yep. I'm zipper-less."

Keely raises her eyebrows. "Is that so, huh?"

"I meant," he smirks, "that I'm zipper-less up _here_," he emphasizes with a pat on his chest.

"Well,_ I _meant that since my hair is...ugh."

Phil smiles. "I like it."

"Please," she scoffs, fingering the ends which now rest just above her shoulders. "I look like a 12-year-old with this 'do."

"A _cute_ 12-year-old."

She rolls her eyes. "Thanks, Phil. That makes me feel so much better." She tucks it behind her ear and sighs. "Cutting it was supposed to make it look fuller."

"It...sorta does."

"I miss my long hair," she pouts. "Is that like really wrong of me?"

He shakes his head. "No way," he says tightening his grip on her waist.

"Soo..do you miss it?" she asks, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Wellll...I was kinda partial to it but..." he whispers before capturing her lips with his own in a passionate kiss that leaves them struggling to breathe afterward.

"Wow..." she gulps. "Phil..."

"I know," he grins, chest heaving with his difficulty to inhale.

"You must really be attracted to 12-year-old girls because you have never kissed me like that," she says in a rush before needing to fill her lungs again.

He rolls his eyes. "Hah."

"I thought we'd kissed just about every way possible," she says with a dreamy sigh, "but that was..."

"You're doing wonders for my ego, Keel."

She snorts.

"Are you two finished? Or would you like us to leave you alone?" Via asks.

They both turn to find her watching them with an expression a parent might have given the circumstances while Owen stuffs his hands into his pockets and gives Phil a slow nod of approval.

"We're done," Keely replies, glancing at her boyfriend for confirmation. "Right?"

"For now."

The speakers boom with a loud catchy beat, and Owen's face lights up. "It's our song, Via!"

Her eyes widen in horror. "Oh no." He grabs her hand with the intention of twirling her around, but she jerks away from him. "Not again."

Keely frowns. "What's going on?"

"This must be the song that was playing when he busted her lip."

"You said what now?"

Via hurries up to them, out of breath from having to dodge Owen's unrelenting attempts to catch her . "Please do something."

"Don't look at me," Phil scoffs.

She raises a stern eyebrow. "He's _your_ friend."

"But he's _your_ boyfriend."

"C'mon, Via!" he yells with a maniacal gleam in his eyes. "Let's shake it, babe!"

As he eagerly strides towards her, she winces and asks Phil, "And why is that again?"

Keely laughs. "We're still waiting for _you_ to tell _us_."

She groans as he takes her by the wrist and drags her back to the makeshift dance floor.

"And you thought those two would never get together..."

He shakes his head at the rather pathetic, sad, and slightly amusing sight in front of them. "I'll never assume anything about Via ever again."

The four friends spend the next few hours dancing happily, reminiscing, and laughing at Owen's expense until the heaviness of much needed sleep begins to overtake them. After Owen and Via drive off in his dad's truck weighted down with the picnic table, flowers, lights and all the trimmings, Phil fetches a wool blanket from the trunk of the car and spreads it on the bank of the pond.

"Are you comfortable?" he asks, sitting next to her.

"Yeah."

"If you're tired, we can go," he offers as she tries to suppress her yawn.

"I'm tired pretty much all the time, Phil," she replies, watching the flame of the lavender candle flicker in the gentle breeze. The slight chill causes her to shiver.

"Cold?"

She rubs her arms. "A little bit."

He moves off the blanket, takes the end he was sitting on, and drapes it over her lap. "Better?"

"I don't want you to have to sit on the rocks."

"Ok then," he says, tugging on the blanket.

"Well, if you insist," she says quickly, holding onto it tightly.

He laughs. "That's what I thought." She yawns again. "Will your mom be mad at me if I bring you home this sleep deprived?"

"_My _mom?" Keely scoffs. "Mad at _you_?"

"I knew slaving over a hot stove all those times would pay off," he replies with a grin.

"Yeah," she says, rolling her eyes. "You've won a special little place in her stomach."

He shrugs. "I don't care if that special little place is up her nose..." Keely grimaces at the thought. "If it means she trusts me enough to keep her daughter out until..." he glances down at his watch, "unspeakable hours of the night...I'll take it."

She sighs contentedly and reaches for his hand, cradling it between both of hers in her lap, tenderly so as if to protect it from harm. Phil watches as she gently grazes his skin with her fingertips and stares out at the calm water. The silver of the turquoise ring shines in the candlelight, catching his eye, and he realizes she wears it on a different finger now. He wonders when the change occurred and why...

But the soft clearing of her throat steals his thoughts, and he finds himself focused on her profile, silky blond gently curling around her ear.

Noticing out of the corner of her eye how he stares at her, she turns her head and smiles. "What's up, Phil?"

He blinks. "What?"

"You were dazing."

"Was I?"

"Uh huh," she laughs. "That's _my _thing, isn't it?"

"Usually," he replies, scooting closer to her side. "But I'm kinda distracted tonight so...right now it's mine," he whispers as he leans into her and nuzzles her neck. Her eyes flutter at the cool touch of his hand creeping under the hem of her sweater.

"What're you doing?" she murmurs.

He pulls back, and the lack of contact causes her to open her eyes. "Ummm...well...if it's not obvious...I must be doing it wrong."

She shakes her head. "That's not what I meant."

"Is it a new rule or something?"

"No...I just don't understand why you'd want to do...that with me."

"We always do that," he replies with a shrug.

"Yeah, but that was...before."

He cocks his head. "Are you being insecure again?"

"Insecure...insecure..." she glances up in thought. "That sounds like a Via word."

"She may have used it once or twice, but I don't think that means she's got a claim on it."

Keely sighs. "I'm not being insecure...just...I don't think I'm really at my most attractive best right now so I gotta wonder why you'd want to make out with me."

"Keel..." he says gently. "That's insecurity."

"Oh."

He laughs quietly and wraps his arm around her shoulders as he tosses a small stone into the pond. As the ripples spread out, they reflect the flickering flame, giving a fiery appearance to the surface of the water. The tiny waves reach the bank and disappear into the stalks of cattails.

The light wind floats through the tops of the tall pines, rustling the needles together as the boughs sway. Soft night noises surrounding the pond echo into the dark. The endless starlight shines brightly against the ebony backdrop while a low translucent fog begins to settle into the cool field.

With her head turned the slightest bit to the side, she watches him as he lazily flips pebbles off the bank. And as much as she wants to keep the thoughts threatening to invade her mind away from her perfect night, despite its minor mishaps, she can't.

She can't help thinking about next week. She can't help thinking about what will happen and what might happen.

The last two weeks have been amazing. He has been amazing; their relationship has been stronger than ever. She didn't think that was possible, especially after the weaknesses that had been exposed over the last few weeks, but it was possible. And it was great.

Being out of the hospital has been such a welcome change even if it is temporary, like the last time. And also like the last time, when she returns, it will be harder than when she left. But unlike last time, when she steps into that hospital Monday afternoon, less than forty-eight hours from now, from this perfect moment, after an indeterminable number of days she won't be leaving it in the same condition she is in now.

Either she will be better or worse. And if the former is true, she'll only be leaving the hospital to travel to another hospital to begin the next phase of her treatment, away from her home, her mom, her friends, and from him. And if the latter is true...

She refuses to think about that.

He rubs his thumb across a smooth flat dark gray stone before sailing it into the air. It skips over the water a few times, bobs at the surface, and then sinks to the muddy bottom.

"Cool," she whispers.

With his hair spiked from the scolding he had received from Via's hand earlier in the evening due to a rather sarcastic remark he had made, he smiles that lopsided smile of his, the one that adds just the tiniest extra beat in her heart.

He returns his gaze to the pond, to the opposite bank where the trees stand firm and ascend to the sky. She watches as the corner of his mouth twitches and his eyes soften. She wonders what he's thinking of, hoping she is the image behind those warm brown eyes, that she is the memory he recalls.

And when he applies the faintest amount of pressure to her hand, she knows that she is exactly what is on his mind.

"Still with me?" he teases.

"What?" she wonders, slowly drifting back to the moment as the sounds of the calm night replace the comfortable humming inside her head.

"You're quiet."

"And?"

"And that's not like you."

She rolls her eyes. "Very funny."

He grins and digs into his shirt pocket. "Saved something for you," he says, placing a soft pink rose petal in her palm.

"You saved one petal from two dozen roses..."

When a frown dampens her features as she examines the thin object, he asks, "Something wrong with it?"

"It's pink," she states flatly.

"Since when do you not like pink?"

"I didn't--"

"I should've brought the Wizrd. I could zap that petal into any color of the rainbow or any color that doesn't even exist yet."

"Phil," she says shaking her head. "I didn't say there was something wrong with it. I was just making an observation."

He furrows his brow. "So...pink's good?"

"Pink is fine. I just...was wondering why not red." She shrugs. "You know, that's the color most girls get 'cause of what it means."

"And most girls also get a bouquet or at least a whole flower, but you're not most girls, Keel." She smiles at the sight of the lopsided grin and the expected extra flutter in her chest. "Do you know what pink means?"

She ponders for a moment but can't recall. "Nope."

"Hmm."

"You're gonna tell me, right?"

He shrugs. "I don't know."

"Phil."

He nonchalantly glances around them, and she pinches his arm. "Ouch!"

"Tell me what it means, please."

He scoffs as he rubs his shoulder. "Oh, now you're saying please?" She lifts her hand again, readying to capture a chunk of his skin between her thumb and forefinger, but he quickly holds up his hands to fend her off. "All right, all right. Lower you weapon."

She concedes. "Pink means..." A grin begins to form on his face. "...that I think you are a cute 12-year-old girl," he finishes, quickly scooting away from her just as her hand reaches out. "Hah!"

"You are so childish, Phil."

"I couldn't resist," he says with a laugh.

"You're not hanging out with Owen anymore. He's starting to become a bad influence."

"Hey..." he says in a wounded voice. "There's no need to compare me to him."

She laughs and gathers the wool blanket up around her arms. "I wonder if he made it home with all that stuff still in one piece."

Phil cautiously inches closer to her, back to his original position. "Probably...since Via was with him."

"Right." She chuckles. "Then I wonder if she's made it home."

He shakes his head. "Doubtful. Owen has this little game he likes to play with her. He--"

Keely holds up her hand. "Whoa! That's too much information. You just keep that guy talk between you two, ok?"

"He likes to lock the door repeatedly while she tries to get out of the car," Phil replies in a dry tone, slightly rolling his eyes. "You know..by using the power locks?"

"Oh."

"Keely, Keely, Keely," he mumbles, shaking his head.

She just shrugs and sets her gaze on the water, unmoving without him tossing rocks into it. Something whizzes by her face and she swats it away, jumping slightly from the unexpected intrusion.

Phil snorts, and she narrows her eyes at him. "Something trying to get ya?"

"Some kinda bug," she replies, surveying her surroundings carefully.

"Dragonfly," he confirms, pointing a few feet out at the water where the creature has briefly alighted.

"I don't care what kinda fly it is...just as long as it stays outta my face."

Phil smiles and pulls her hand into his lap. "Do you know that male dragonflies only come to the water to mate?"

Keely slowly turns her head to look at him, raising her eyebrow, regarding him warily. "What _is_ your deal tonight, Diffy?"

"I have no clue what you're talking about," he replies with a straight face. She's highly suspicious of that, but she doesn't get the chance to call him on it when he rises to his feet, tugging on her hand, encouraging her to rise also.

"What?"

"I should get you home, Keel."

"But I don't wanna," she pouts.

"I'll swing by that 24-hour place you like. Get ya an ice cream cone?"

She eagerly stands up. "Deal." He throws the blanket over his shoulder, grabs the candle, and they make their way to the car. "But I'm driving."

"Keely..."

"Phil."

"Fine."

He laces his fingers with hers, swinging their hands between them as they walk down the dirt path. "Did you have a good time tonight?"

"The best."

"Good." She pockets the petal, and he smiles as they approach the car. "And..uh..a pink rose means..." he begins, opening the driver's side door for her.

"Yeah?" she asks, sliding in behind the wheel.

"Perfect happiness," he replies softly before closing her door.

She slowly leans back against the seat, watches him cross in front of the car to the other side and drop into the seat next to her with a wide grin.

"Ready?"

She wants to say something to him in this moment, inside the quiet, darkened interior of the car, their soft breaths the only sounds to be heard, but all she can manage is a smile that lights up her whole face as she turns the key.

He settles comfortably into the seat, resting his arms atop his stomach and watching the shadows of the night pass by as the car travels along the road.


	11. Chapter 11

For story-related and non-story-related purposes, I've had to cut out a good chunk of this story. I'm disappointed, but hopefully, you guys won't be.

Chapter Eleven

"Phil."

Slowly, the sore eyelid opens only to be greeted by the blinding morning sun streaming in through the windows.

"Phil."

He blinks a few times and glances down at his wrist. With his head aching from the few hours of sleep he managed to get last night, he groans in displeasure at the time.

"Phil."

In response to her persistence, he languidly rolls onto his back. "What?" he yawns as he wipes the lingering sleep from his tired eyes. "Sorry I was out late, Mom, but we went for ice cr..." As he sets his lazy gaze on her face, immediately he stiffens. "What's going on?" he questions cautiously.

"Keely's mom called a few minutes ago."

Her voice is thick with an odd quality, something he doesn't instantly recognize, but the solemn expression on her face quickens his pulse and deepens his sense of dread.

"And?" he barely whispers.

"Keely's been taken to the emergency room."

"What?" He shakes the heaviness from his head as he pushes himself off the bed.

"She had a high fever and she collapsed this morn--"

"Collapsed?" The word smashes into his mind with the force of a speeding freight train, splintering his skull, sending fragments scattering like shattered porcelain. "But she...I don't understand." The pain pulsating inside his head throbs with mounting intensity. "I just saw her a few hours ago..s-she was fine."

Mrs. Diffy opens her mouth to speak a meaningless reassurance, but Phil cuts her off as he grabs up the same pair of jeans he'd tossed aside upon his arrival home earlier this morning. "I gotta go."

She nods. "I'll be waiting for you downstairs."

The drive to the hospital, the jog through the parking lot, the rush through the emergency room doors, the quick pace through the freshly waxed corridors with his sneakers squeaking along the way, is all a blurry, time-warped jumble of silent pleas and racing heartbeats.

Suddenly, it all comes to a screeching halt.

She's sitting on one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs near a busy area filled with employees and computers. Her hands rest on her knees; her tightly squeezed fingers are white against her black slacks. Her face is distant and blank. Her shoulders slump forward the slightest bit.

"Mandy."

His mom's voice is soft; he wasn't even aware of the moment she stepped out from behind him and moved to the woman sitting there like a statue.

"Barbara," she states flatly, glancing up to the face of the person placing a tender hand on her shoulder. She turns her head to look at him and a small smile graces her features. "Phil."

He can't deny the thick emotion in her voice when she speaks his name. He gulps down the fear rising like bitter bile in the back of his throat. "Where is she?"

"ICU," she replies, indicating the closed double doors a few feet away.

His mom gives him an uncertain glance, and he nods. "Intensive care?" he asks more for her benefit than any other reason. Mandy nods, and Phil's cemented feet carry him closer at an agonizingly slow speed. "What happened?"

"She came downstairs," Mandy begins, looking at her hands. "She said she felt sick...I didn't think..." She shakes her head and continues, "She was burning up so I went to get the thermometer and a cold rag but...when I came back...she was on the floor and..." She glances up at Phil, and he bites back the emotion welling up from the sight of the helpless sorrow in her eyes. "I couldn't get her to wake up."

He looks away as his mom asks, "Has the doctor spoken to you?"

Mandy nods. "He should be back soon with more information."

"Can I see her?" he asks quietly.

"No, Phil...not until she's moved to another room," she answers softly, apologetically.

He sets his gaze upon the double doors, blocking his way to her, keeping him from her.

The phone on the desk rings, the computer beeps, keys click, a fax machine buzzes, nurses walk by speaking in hushed tones with the fabric of their scrubs swishing as they pass and the soles of their white shoes padding against the tile, his mom and her mom speak quietly...

But he doesn't hear a single sound except her sweet laughter ringing through his head, traveling down his spine, spreading like warm liquid in his veins, culminating in his heart while he stares at those plain double doors...

...until his mom gently ushers him into the waiting room and into a different colored uncomfortable plastic chair. She offers to buy him a soda from the machine behind him, but he declines. She offers to grab him one of the complimentary donuts, but he shakes his head. She offers encouragement, but he tunes her out. Eventually, she leans back in her chair.

"Hey there, kiddo." The familiar voice draws him from his daze, and he turns his head to see her smiling down at him. "Hi. You must be Phil's mom."

"Barbara," she replies, extending her hand.

"I'm Dee. Keely's nurse."

"I've heard about you," she replies with a smile. "Phil speaks very kindly of you."

"He's a good kid." She turns her attention back to the worried boy. "Who I wasn't expecting to see around here until tomorrow."

"Do you know how she's doing?" he asks in earnest.

"When I heard she'd been admitted, I went to check on her. Dr. Porter, in the ICU, he was giving her mom the details of her condition. She told me where I could find you..." She pauses, looking down into his dark eyes, the hope within them shining like a beacon through a dark night. "Keely went into shock from blood poisoning."

"Is it from the Leukemia?"

"Not directly, though having Leukemia does make her especially vulnerable." She takes up the empty chair next to him. "She's been given a healthy dosage of antibiotics throughout her treatment but, sometimes, it's not enough to stave off infection."

"But I just saw her last night. She wasn't sick..a-and the last two weeks...she's been fine."

"Because of the damages done to her immune system, her body can't handle harmful bacteria the way it should, and even the tiniest amount entering a break in the skin from something as small as a paper cut can cause septicemia. It happens fast. It's perfectly normal that she would've been fine last night and not this morning. The symptoms come on pretty quick."

"But...she's gonna be all right...isn't she?"

Dee places a warm hand on his knee. He's not sure if it is his desperate need for that to be true or the sheer determination within her eyes telling him, without any doubts, that she will indeed be just fine, but regardless of the reason, he believes it. He has to, otherwise, nothing else matters.

But by the time they speak to her mom again, after two hours without her regaining consciousness, that thread of belief begins to fray, unraveling uncontrollably.

So he runs.

He runs as fast and furiously as he possibly can until his physical limits are tested, leaving him with no choice but to stop.

He bends at the waist, panting heavily as his chest sears with pain from lack of oxygen. He reaches out a hand to the large oak tree beside him, hoping the strength of the towering trunk will keep his knees from buckling.

He tightly closes his eyes against the hurt afflicted upon him like sharp blades to his skin, but it does not disappear. The broken sentences confirming the staggering details of her current condition swim inside his head until his dizziness nearly throws him to the earth beneath his aching feet. The onslaught overwhelms him to the point he feels as if he might explode, but he just doesn't have the energy left to do it.

...respiratory distress...low blood pressure...signs of failure...if she doesn't wake up...

He opens his eyes and glances at his surroundings, taking a moment to recognize his location. He could have sworn he had traveled a much greater distance, but he finds himself only as far from her as the edge of the hospital grounds.

"Phil?"

Wondering how she found him out here, he turns around to the sound of the kind voice. When she notices in his eyes the storm of emotions tossing his soul upon giant swells, her heart sinks.

"I had to get out of there."

She shakes her head. "No need to explain."

He nods solemnly and glances down at the ground, swallowing the lump in his throat. "She..." His voice falters and he takes a deep breath to steady his nerves.

"I know," she offers sympathetically.

"Bacteria," he huffs.

"Doesn't seem right, does it?"

He sighs and sags against the tree. "Is she going to get better, Dee?" he asks in a childlike way.

"What do you believe?"

"I know what I want to believe...but..." He averts her gentle gaze again.

"Believing in something doesn't make it real?"

He leans his back against the rough bark, pursing his lips. Maybe he doesn't have to believe it for it to be real.

She had asked once why it was happening. He didn't have an answer for her. They both had seen a glimpse of her future, and they both had wondered over the course of the last few months if that future had changed. But he hadn't had the courage to look, and she hadn't had the courage to ask him to.

He hadn't understood it, but it had given him hope. In the beginning, when she let that same hope slip away, he wanted to remind her everyday of the promise the future held for her, and ultimately, for them both. But as strong as hope is, fear can be stronger.

And because of that fear...

"I just ran away," he whispers, unaware that his weak voice has given life to his thoughts.

"You're hurting."

"I'm terrified."

"It's ok."

"It's wrong."

"Fear is neither right nor wrong, Phil."

He shakes his head. "It made me leave her..." He scoffs, "Like being there would make any difference..."

"Oh, it does. It means everything to that girl up there," Dee says with a smile. "I should know. I've spent a lot of time with her." She nods her head. "It means something, Phil."

"What if she doesn't wake up?" he whispers, his voice laced with timid sadness.

Dee steps closer to him. "Phil..." she begins gently, "I know what it feels like to be afraid of losing someone." He tilts his head to the side as she glances out at the parking lot with a distant look in her eyes. "My husband."

"I didn't know you were married."

"Well, it was a very long time ago."

"What..." he asks hesitantly, "what happened?"

She briefly closes her eyes as a faint smile appears on her face. "We met when we were fifteen." She looks at Phil with a playful shine in her eyes. "Can you imagine meeting the love of your life at such a young age?"

"Yeah...I can imagine."

She sets her wistful gaze upon the bright blue sky, squinting against the brilliant morning sunshine. "We were together in high school, loved each other like crazy, but I was scared of what would come after that." She shakes her head. "I had this ridiculous notion that just dating wasn't enough so I told him I wanted us to get married."

"Somehow, I thought that would keep us together forever." The wistful look in her eyes fades as they grow darker. "He wanted to wait until we were older, but I wouldn't listen so the day after Graduation, we eloped."

Shaking a finger at Phil, she adds, "I don't recommend that by the way."

His lips curve into a small smile.

"I was so happy as we were driving back home that night..." She slowly nods her head. "I just knew nothing would ever take him away from me..." She breathes a soft sigh. "But something did. On the side of the road after we hit a truck head-on...I walked away with a few scrapes and bruises...and he...didn't," she finishes, her voice slightly hinging on her emotion.

"I'm sorry, Dee."

She shakes her head, waving off his concerns. "I blamed myself for it. He loved me so much, otherwise we'd have never been on that highway that night..." She glances down at her open hands. "I cradled his head as the sirens blared in the distance and...I found something even as I was losing everything."

She drops her hands back to her sides. "I'd been selfish before...but at that moment...I just wanted to help _him_." She sighs. "I couldn't do anything for him, but I was enrolled in nursing school within a month's time and I like to think I've helped many others over the years." She smiles as she recalls her past. "I think about the lives I've touched, patients and their families and friends, and I know..." she says, looking into his eyes, "why things happened the way they did that night."

"Why do you think things are happening the way they are now?" he asks hesitantly.

"Well, that's the catch, Phil. We don't see the reasons until later."

"Life doesn't make any sense," he mutters.

Dee chuckles. "I think you're still trying too hard, kiddo. What'd I tell ya about that frettin' over stuff you're not ever gonna figure out?"

He stuffs his hands into his pockets and blows out a heavy breath, glancing at the busy street crossing between the parking lots. "Don't," he mumbles, recalling the words she had spoken to him after his falling out with Keely, something seemingly so trivial now.

"I used to be a mule-headed girl," she reminisces with a laugh. "My mother asked me once why I insisted on building sandcastles in the surf."

Phil raises his eyebrow, and she explains, "It's not worth the struggle, she had told me."

"So you gave up?"

"I let go," she corrects with a smile.

"But...isn't that a bad thing?"

"You tell me."

"Sounds like admitting defeat," he says with a shrug.

"Letting go of things that keep you from living, Phil, isn't admitting defeat."

Maybe Dee's right, he thinks. After everything he has been through with Keely over the last few months, they are still together. But whether or not he is afraid for her and himself, he can't help her. Maybe no one can.

Of all the things mankind will conquer in the next hundred years, death will remain elusive. Scientists will solve mysteries of the body and the mind, but they won't cheat death. It is impending to every person currently on the planet and to every person still to join this world. People just don't live forever. It's a cold truth, but a truth nonetheless.

Bodies are damaged, and they ultimately fade away into nothingness. And medicine and science can only save them for so long before the inevitable occurs.

"I just wish I could save her," he whispers, glancing down at his feet.

"You _are_ saving her, kiddo," Dee replies softly, and he looks up at her through his lashes. "You belonging to her...that saves her every day."

But it's not enough, he thinks as sorrow and anger collide inside him. No matter how much he loves her, it'll never be enough to save her.

Dee places her hand upon his shoulder, the warmth causing the hardened exterior to begin to melt away with ease. "It's hard, Phil, but sometimes..." He glances up at her. "You have to let go just to hold on." She gives him a little smile. "Do me a favor and remember that."

As she walks away, Phil furrows his brow. "Dee." She turns back to face him, but he sighs, unable to express his gratitude the way he feels he should.

She laughs knowingly. "No problem, kiddo. That's why I'm here."

He watches her until she disappears inside the hospital before following in her footsteps.

He spends the next few hours sitting upon one of those uncomfortable chairs in the waiting room while she rests. Eventually when the few hours of slumber he's operating on catch up with him, he nods off into a unsound sleep with the back of his head against the wall.

"Phil."

He rouses easily. "What?"

"She's awake," his mom says softly.

In the hallway, he makes a sharp right for the double doors, but his mom touches his arm. "This way."

"Where're we going?"

"She's been moved."

In the moment, he's not sure if that's a good thing, but he has every intention of finding out as he purposefully strides down the hall, close at his mother's heels. Pausing outside her door for only a second, he slowly steps inside.

"Hey."

She smiles weakly, but her happiness to see him glimmers in her eyes.

"Where's your mom?"

"She had to..." Keely takes a deep breath from the line feeding her life's most essential need. "Make a phone call."

He nods as he steps closer to her bed. "Good to see you out of that other place," he comments with a small smile. "They wouldn't let us in there."

Taking the hand he offers, she glances down at her chest where her other hand rests, the pulse oximeter clamped onto her finger. "Yeah...when I woke up...they moved me...here."

The difficulty she's having just to utter a few words worries him beyond the anxiety level he was all ready experiencing. Logically, he assumes that her doctor's order that she be removed from intensive care must mean her condition is improving, but as he watches her while trying to ignore the myriad of machines surrounding her bed, he can't help but feel as if his rationalized assumptions are incorrect.

And when she meets his gaze and whispers his name, that feeling instantly transforms into a hard, cold confirmation.

"Phil." He shakes his head as his fingers tighten the grip on her nearly weightless hand. "I'm sorry," she breathes.

"Keely..." The rest is merely a silent plea.

"Will you..." For a moment, he isn't aware of what she's asking of him, but as her eyes communicate the gentle request, he immediately moves to her side.

He sits on the edge of the padded chair next to her bed as she gingerly shifts her position, wincing with the struggle of the simple movement, to rest on her side and as close to him as possible. He leans forward, keeping his hold on her hand, and caresses the fine hair at her temple.

"I can't even cry," she whispers, mentally berating herself for the lack of emotional reaction, but her body simply cannot muster the strength.

But he weeps for her. As a single tear slowly rolls down his cheek, through him, her emotion finds an outlet, passing from one heart to another, creating one from two. And she slips into a peaceful sleep that hasn't come to her in such a long time.

He remains there in that chair as the time ticks away into night without any acknowledgment of its passing from him, until his mom gently encourages him to come home with her to rest. Despite his initial protest, despite his need to be with Keely, his body's sleep-deprived state wills him to allow his mom to lead him out of the hospital, to the car, and eventually up the stairs to his bed where he crashes into a numb slumber, his final thoughtsof the girl...

...who is curled onto her side, with her mom softly snoring in a chair in the corner of the dimly-lighted room.

Silently, Dee steps through the door, careful to not awaken either one of them as she gives the monitors a glance. Momentarily stopping at the bed, she faintly tucks a loose strand of blond behind Keely's ear, letting her fingers linger upon the pale skin of her forehead for a few moments.

"Dee?" Mandy whispers, squinting in the low light.

"Just checking in," she whispers back, slowly returning to the door, but a quiet sound from the corner draws her attention. "Is everything all right?" she asks upon seeing Mandy's distressed expression.

"I forgot," she says in a low voice, shaking her head.

"Forgot what?" Dee asks, coming to stand in front of her.

"Keely wanted her blanket earlier. I was supposed to get it when I went to make a phone call, but I didn't remember."

"The yellow fleece one?" Dee asks with a smile.

She nods. "I guess you've seen it a time or two."

Dee chuckles quietly. "Just once or twice."

"I should go down to the car and get it," Mandy replies, slowly rising to her feet, stretching her stiff muscles.

"I can get it for you," Dee offers.

"No, that's all right."

"Please, let me do it," she urges. "You stay with her."

"It's the silver sedan in lot B, close to the sidewalk," she describes while digging the keys from her purse. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

Dee smiles. "Not at all."

"Thank you...for everything you've done for Keely," Mandy replies gratefully. "You've been so generous to her."

"It's what I'm here for," Dee says softly before quietly exiting the room.


	12. Chapter 12

The bits of poems belong to Lord Alfred Tennyson and Robert Burns. Wow, short chapter. That's different for me, but there's really no need for this one to be long.

Chapter Twelve

The phone rings sharply in the quiet house long before the sun will break over the horizon.

He stirs in his bed on the third ring when the noise abruptly stops. Without breathing, he listens intently for soft footfalls coming toward his open bedroom door. Within a few minutes, she peeks inside.

"Are you awake?"

He briefly closes his eyes, wishing he was sleeping, wishing he was dreaming. But when he opens them again, she's still standing there in the doorway, silhouetted against the lighted hallway. Wordlessly, he plants his feet on the floor.

"Honey...I--"

"I just need a few minutes to get dressed," he interrupts in a flat tone.

She nods and leaves him alone, deciding not to tell him the other bad news she had received from Keely's mom.

When they reach their destination, he notices how eerily still and silent the hospital is in the pre-dawn hours. After making a quick stop, he moves through the halls to her room while the bright lights overhead faintly hum. His mother's words relaying the message regarding her condition repeat in his mind like a broken record.

...she's too weak...her body is failing her...the doctors have done everything they can...it's only a matter of time...

And he can hear the words his mom didn't need to speak.

But she isn't dying from the complexity of a disease which not even the advancement of future technology can defeat, not from the very thing that has kept her in and out of the hospital for months, not from the very thing that held a chance of survival. But the cancer crouches behind the affliction, aiding its assault upon her body, its assault upon his heart, waiting for its victory, and waiting for the end.

He stares up at the humming lights as he walks, counting each one that passes to drown out his thoughts until he turns the corner and sees two familiar faces.

She stands up from the row of plastic chairs lining the wall outside the room. He quickly rises to stand next to her. Her face is soft with compassion, her eyes glassy with tears. His face is drawn with worry and sympathy and perhaps a little confusion, which elicits the smallest twitch of Phil's lips.

"You weren't expecting to see us."

He shakes his head. "But I'm glad you're here."

Via nods. "I had asked her to let me know if..."

Phil questions when she looks away, "How'd you get here so fast?"

"I called Owen for a ride."

They share a light laugh, a brief lifting of spirits before the gloom returns, setting in like a concrete stone.

"Is she in there?" he asks, indicating the closed door.

"I think she's saying goodbye," Via affirms as her voice trembles, and Owen laces his fingers with hers.

"Have you..."

"I came by last night for a few minutes."

Phil's brow furrows. "She was asleep when I left."

Via nods. "She was asleep when we arrived so we weren't going to stay, but..."

Owen shrugs sheepishly. "My oops."

"Run into something?"

"Tripped over the chair," he admits.

Phil smiles. "Bet she enjoyed that."

Via chuckles. "She said that it was good to see something normal."

The door opens, and the small group grows quiet as she steps into the hallway, dabbing her red-rimmed eyes with a wrinkled tissue. Mrs. Diffy is immediately at her side, gently guiding her to the chairs.

Phil struggles to swallow his fear down his scratchy, dry throat when she glances up at him, her body shaking from the effort to hold back her sobs.

"She wants to see you, Phil," she attempts to speak as evenly as possible.

"N-no," he mumbles, glancing down at his feet, shifting his weight from one to the other. "You should be with her."

He can hear the light rustle of her clothing as she moves to him. "She wants you, Phil," she repeats, laying her hand on his shoulder. "Go ahead," she encourages with the smallest hint of a smile before she envelopes him in a tight embrace.

When she releases him, she moves away from the group, slowly down the hall toward the waiting room. His mom glances his way and silently seeks his permission to leave him to follow her. He nods, she places a soft kiss to his forehead, and departs.

Inhaling deeply, he meets Via's eyes for a moment, then Owen's. And then he pushes through the door. When he steps into the room, and as the door falls closed behind him, everything freezes for an instant.

And then his world tilts on its axis at an alarming degree of instability, and in the first moment he sets his gaze upon her, he can barely support his weight as a tremendous pain comes crashing down on him.

The pallor of her cheeks signaling the drained life within, the dark bruises on her arms from the needle insertions, the veins prominent against her pale skin, her chest slowly rising and falling...

But her eyes flutter open and she smiles.

The sight is all he needs to take away that crushing pain, and he realizes as she beckons him closer with a weak wave of her hand with that completely irresistible smile upon her beautiful face, the only thing that can ever hurt him now will be the moment he walks out of this room without her in his life.

He plucks a single petal from the long-stemmed rose before placing it on the small table. Taking her hand in his to give her the gift, he notices the lack of warmth. Blinking back the prickling of tears, she slowly twirls the petal between her fingers.

"It's pink," she whispers, her voice sounding congested and strained.

Her voice has always been the sweetest music, even the times it squealed in his ear when she was excited, screeched when she was upset, and cracked when she was emotional. But now, her voice is so different that if he wasn't standing next to her, he wouldn't know who it belonged to. To not recognize her voice...to not hear that sweet music...

He can feel another piece of himself break away to be carried along the icy river flowing through his soul.

But the ghost of a smirk playing on her lips brings the memory, seemingly so far behind him now, to his mind and he smiles. "It'll always be pink."

She frowns. "You're sup..supposed to make me laugh...Phil."

"I love your laugh," he comments, gazing at the blank wall.

"Then...be funny."

He shrugs as he returns his gaze to her face. "Maybe I should get Owen."

"No...that's not...necessary," she chuckles softly.

"That was funny?" he asks with his patented lopsided grin.

Though weakened, her heart jumps that extra little beat. She lays the petal on her stomach atop the yellow fleece blanket and slips her hand into his.

"Have you seen Dee?" she inquires as his thumb skims over her cool skin, igniting a light trail of warmth like summer sunshine in its wake.

"No," he answers, furrowing his brow upon realizing her absence and wondering why she isn't here now after she's been here all this time.

"Thought she would come," she replies dispiritedly.

"She still might," he says, taking a seat in the padded chair at her bedside.

Keely breathes in deeply; the exertion causes her lids to fall for a moment before she looks into his eyes. "Phil..." she painfully utters, knowing the hour is drawing near. "I want to say so much...to you..." Her breath hitches as her vision becomes misty with tears. "But I'm...so tired," she says feeling ashamed.

Tentatively, he leans forward to press his lips to hers in a bittersweet kiss. "Rest," he whispers against her cheek as a single tear of his own falls onto her cool skin.

"I'm scared," she softly sobs.

"I'll be here, Keel," he reassures her, tenderly cradling her hand.

She desperately tries to focus on his face, on the unspoken thoughts in her mind floating aimlessly about like feathers in a light breeze, but she can't. The exhaustion is too much to overcome. She can only hope that he knows everything inside her heart, that he can hear it loud and clear, and that he will always remember it.

Their gazes lock, and time grants them a small courtesy by ceasing its forward momentum for one glimpse of peace, one moment for their souls to whisper sacred words while the light still shines.

Within the tranquil realm of silence, pieces of memories fade in and out, leaving faint footprints across her heart.

...her mom...the blanket...comfort and safety...flashes of childhood days...bright smiles...sweet tastes...soft sounds

...her friends...past and present...laughter and joy...squeals of delight...shared secrets...youth and adolescence...the tip of adulthood

...and him...the curiosity...the best friend...the adventures...the love...the happiest years of her life...his promise to her...

Taking a shallow breath, she watches the multitude of memories unfold into one randomly chosen day in the comfort of her bedroom with him close at her side.

_"This is it!"_

_He raises his eyebrows as she holds up the piece of notebook paper high in the air over her head._

_"Finally...I thought our Junior year would be over and done with before you picked a poem for this project."_

_"Very funny."_

_He stretches out onto his back on her bed and grins as she straightens her shoulders, smooths out the wrinkles of her blouse, and begins to recite the passage._

_"Be near me when my light is low, when the blood creeps, and the nerves prick, and tingle; and the heart is sick, and all the wheels of Being slow... Be near me when I fade away, to point the term of human strife, and on the low dark verge of life, the twilight of eternal day." _

_He slowly claps his hands together once, then twice. "Outstanding selection. That was...depressing"_

_"Hey...I kinda like it."_

_"You? Girl on 24/7 sugar high?"_

_"What can I say? It just jumped out at me."_

_"Yeah, I can see why. It's a very lively, jumpy poem."_

_"Fine then. Let's see what you got."_

_He stands up on her bed, but quickly hits the floor when she crosses her arms over her chest._

_"Ladies and gentlemen..uh..lady. I give you Robert Burns, with the styling of Mr. Phil Diffy.. Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; Ae fare-- what?"_

_"Ae?"_

_"One."_

_"One what?"_

_"It means one."_

_"Oh."_

_"Ahem. Fareweel, alas, for ev-- what?"_

_"What's with the accent?"_

_"He was Scottish."_

_"Oh."_

_"Ahem. Who shall say that Fortune grieves him, while the star of hope she leaves him? But to see her was to love her; love but her, and love for ever. Had we never lov'd sae-- what now?"_

_"Sae?"_

_"It's another Scottish thing. So. It means so."_

_"Ohhh."_

_"What were you doing, Miss Teslow, while we went over this in class?"_

_"I was writing a letter to my boyfriend."_

_"What letter?"_

_"You know the letter...with the...you know..."_

_"Ahhh... that letter... well then, that's acceptable."_

_"Please continue."_

_He stares stupidly into space with a goofy lopsided grin and a light blush on his face, and she snaps her fingers._

_"Phil?"_

_"Right. Right... Had we never lov'd sae blindly, never met-or never parted, we had ne'er been broken-hearted..."_

And with his low voice resounding in her mind, she takes a final glance at their intertwined hands and the pink rose petal.

And she closes her eyes.


	13. Chapter 13

Well, it's finally over! It's short about three chapters of the original plan, but that happens sometimes. Writing this chapter gave me a terrible headache, and it's still not what I'd envisioned, but here it is. Make of it what you will.

I want to thank everyone who has read my little story and reviewed it. You guys are awesome.

Chapter Thirteen

The red-orange glow on the western horizon alights the sparsely wooded acres and casts long shadows along the freshly cut grass. A cool late springtime breeze swirls about his frame and ruffles his hair as he kneels on one knee in front of the glossy carved stone. Wishing he would have grabbed his jacket from the car, he shivers slightly from the chill under the shade of the canopy of leaves high above him.

Faint laughter carried by the light wind whispers against his ear, and he glances over his shoulder to see her and the old man standing near the car. He chuckles softly at the sight of them, at how she keeps trying to politely leave the conversation the kind stranger had engaged her in the minute they stepped foot on the ground.

Turning back to the stone, he lays the small bouquet of white irises atop the mound of earth, slowly rises to his feet, and slips his hands into his pockets as he reflects on the past.

It's been over a year since he stood here. He glances around the area at the tall trees, the fading sunlight streaming through the spaces between them. The place hasn't changed since he stood here; the only difference is the absence of the small crowd of family and friends standing with bowed heads under the tent as her body was laid to rest on the breath of softly spoken words.

Wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, he turns his head at the sound of her sigh.

"Thanks for leaving me back there," she says sarcastically. He smiles innocently. "That groundskeeper," she acknowledges with a nod of her head, "friendly old guy...or crazy."

"Could be both," he shrugs.

But her gaze has become distant as she stares at the stone. Her lips draw into a thin line, her spine lengthens, and she stuffs her hands into her coat pockets.

"Are you ok?"

She says uneasily, shaking her head, "Maybe I shouldn't have come." He steps toward her, but she steps back. "No. I didn't want to come here again, Phil, and you knew that," she accuses.

"I think it's good for you to be here," he offers gently.

She scoffs, "Do I look good to you?"

"You look like you need to come to terms with this," he replies without hesitation.

"She's dead. Gone," she says flatly. "There's nothing left to come to terms with."

"Something happened that day."

She nods. "You're right. A really good person died."

"And another really good person didn't."

Crossing her arms over her chest, she demands, "What exactly are you trying to say, Phil?"

He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, spiking it. "I know you blame yourself for what happened. This past year, hardly a day's gone by without you beating yourself up over it."

"Phil," she warns as her eyes water.

"I didn't say anything to you about it," he continues softly, stepping closer to her. "I knew you didn't want to talk."

"And I don't want to talk about it now either," she replies caustically, and he flinches. "I'm going back to the car," she adds, a hint of sadness tinging her voice as she turns to leave.

"Keely," he calls out after her.

Slowly facing him, she weakly lifts her hands from her sides. "I don't understand why it happened...the way it did," she admits helplessly.

"I think I do," he replies compassionately as he walks to her.

"You're kidding."

He shrugs, coming to stand a few feet from her rigid frame. "I thought about it a lot...and it's starting to make some sense."

"Oh really?" she scoffs.

"I think...somehow...Dee saved you," he says, ignoring her verbal infliction. She glances down at the grass. "And I think that you think that too...and that's why you blame yourself."

"If she hadn't gone to get it for me, the accident wouldn't have happened."

"Maybe it wasn't an accident."

She asks sadly, "Can you tell me _why _she died and I didn't, Phil?"

"No," he sighs. "I can't, Keel. And you can spend the rest of your life trying to figure it out but...you'll never know. No matter how hard you try," he says quietly, closing the gap between them. This time, she doesn't back away. "You have to let it go..."

A familiar voice echoes in his mind, and his lips curve into a smile as he shakes his head.

"What?" she asks curiously.

"Or you're just building sandcastles in the surf."

Her face contorts in confusion. "Huh?"

"Something Dee told me..." he replies reminiscently.

"Sandcastles," she says, slowly nodding her head. "Kinda right up there with sunsets," she notes, glancing at the fading fiery display.

"And shoes." Off her deepened expression of confusion, he adds a quick, "Never mind."

"Didn't you...yell at me something about shoes once?" she inquires, furrowing her brow.

He nods, a faint shine in his dark eyes as he recalls the conversation he had with the kind-hearted, wise woman one early sunny morning which had led to his little outburst.

The breeze brushes by them, and he braces for the slight chill, but it never comes. Instead, a warmth hangs in the air, lightly sweeping across his bare arms. She notices it too.

Gazing into the endless depths of deep brown, she can see the spark of light within. He stands there in front of her with his hands in the pockets of his faded jeans, wearing the charcoal gray t-shirt she has stolen for sleepwear on several occasions over the past year, hair tousled, the beginnings of that lopsided grin upon his face, and she feels a heaviness fall from her shoulders that she's been harboring for such a long time.

"Can I...have a few minutes?"

He nods. "I'll be in the car...or...uh," he chuckles, "probably talking to the old man if I can't sneak by him."

"Thanks, Phil," she whispers before he turns away.

"Hey, Keel," he says as she begins to walk back to the grave. When she faces him, he continues softly, "There is one thing I know without any doubt." She raises her eyebrows slightly, encouraging him to elaborate. "You're here," he says with a small smile. "And that means everything to me."

And it means everything to her too. Standing such an insignificant distance from the center of her world, she can clearly see her whole life in front of her, and she knows she is one of the lucky ones. And with him by her side, she always will be.

He tosses her another little grin which naturally jolts her heartbeat before he treks across the lush green lawn.

And she slowly turns to look down at the delicate bundle of white flowers, radiant in the twilight's glow. As the warm wind rakes across the land, she tucks a strand of long, silky blond hair behind her ear while the comfort of the wind's warmth seeps into her skin, bringing to life the memory of that day.

As her consciousness, loosely tethered to the shore, drifted back from the foggy deep, the absence of the chill that had clung to her before she had fallen asleep was the first thing she became aware of as her eyes slowly opened against the bright light filtering through the partially drawn curtains. In its place, a tingling warmth encompassed her.

As her mind began to label the sights and sounds of her surroundings, her body began to respond. Effortlessly, much to her surprise, and without even a twinge of pain in her chest, she inhaled a deep breath. A muffled sound off to her side had drawn her attention, and she turned her head to see her mom carefully approaching.

_"Keely?"_

The amazement on her face was striking; the wonderment written in her mother's features was unmistakable.

_"Hi."_

The whisper uttered wasn't strained. Her mom placed her hand over her mouth to contain the gasp of surprise and joy that had nearly escaped her at that moment.

_"You're awake."_

She nodded and smiled as she pushed herself up with a strength she hadn't possessed in quite some time to lean her back against the pillow before glancing at the window.

_"It's daylight."_

Her mom blinked slowly, touched her hand, and had replied with a small laugh.

_"Yes, it is."_

_"Mom...I feel really...good."_

She embraced her daughter tightly, pressing her lips to her cheek and laughing softly into her ear. Pulling back to gaze at her in awe, her mom wiped a tear from her eye and quickly stood up.

_"I should get the doctor."_

She had hurried out the door, Keely breathed an airy sigh, and he shifted in the armchair taking up a slightly darkened corner of the room.

_"Keel?" _

He swiftly rose to his feet with wide eyes and crossed the space between them in four strides. And she laughed.

_"Hey."_

_"You're..."_

_"Awake?"_

He nodded, and she smiled.

_"I'm kinda getting the feeling that I shouldn't be."_

_"I thought..we thought...didn't you think?"_

She laughed, and reached for his hand, pulling him to a sitting position on the edge of the firm mattress.

_"I did, but now...Phil...I feel so...great. I feel better than great. I feel...incredible."_

_"You do?"_

The uncertainty combined with the timid boyish expression on his adorable face compelled her to wrap her arms around his neck.

_"I really do."_

He tightened his grip around her waist and sighed in relief.

_"Keel..."_

_"I know."_

Her whisper was breathed into the curve of his neck as she briefly closed her eyes, savoring the glorious moment, nestled in the arms of her best friend, the love of her life, the life she nearly lost forever...

And the confusion surfaced.

But her mom had returned with the doctor behind her, and the flurry of activity and questions that followed effectively shoved that confusion aside.

A miracle, they had called it. The doctors hadn't any medical way to describe what they witnessed in her, in the girl who had not been expected to last the day's length was by all their own admissions, completely healthy.

The severe infection was gone, leaving nothing left to trace, and her vitals were strong and normal. She was completely healthy.

The tests proved that. Baffled by not one but two medical mysteries, the doctors simply could not interpret what had transpired between the few hours she slept as the others waited for the inevitable. The life-threatening, assumed to be fatal illness had disappeared during those hours. And so had something else even more unbelievable. The tests were clear. There wasn't a single abnormality to be found. She was completely healthy...

The cancer, seemingly upon preliminary test results, was gone. And later, it was confirmed.

But that day, which held so much happiness revealed a dark secret, something her mom had kept from her to save her the pain, something his mom had kept from him to do the same.

She had volunteered to retrieve her blanket from the car, and with that single decision made out of kindness and caring her life had been brought to a sudden end before she could even cross the busy street winding through the two parking lots.

Keely stares down at the name engraved into the marble, squinting to read the print in the low light lingering in the late evening sky.

With a gentle touch of her fingertips to the smooth surface of the stone, she whispers, "Thank you." Her voice dissolves into the warm wind wafting through the grove of trees and rows of stones.

And she slowly walks away, unbuttoning her coat as the light warm wind rises again.

Up ahead, she can see him leaning against the door of her Graduation present, his face tilted skywards admiring the crisp deep blue and purple hues of early night. And she smiles as the warmth from inside surpasses that of the gentle breeze floating by.

After that day at the hospital, their relationship had been different. Their love hadn't waned, but there had been an ever-present forbidden conversation lurking in the shadows, and it had altered the atmosphere they had created for themselves. But it was easy to ignore during the many trials of being college freshmen.

And she knows who is at fault for the small distance between them over the past year, so small a distance that not even their families and friends noticed.

Except for one very insightful friend, Keely thinks with a smile as she joins him at the car where he waits.

"Hey," she greets, looping her arm with his in her characteristic cheer, which he is more than pleased to hear. "Ready to go?"

He studies her face for a moment, taking in the almost carefree expression. "If you are," he says when she leans into his side.

"Let's go then," she replies, dropping his arm and heading to the driver's side. "We're gonna be late."

"Can I drive?" he asks hopefully since she never lets him.

She carefully considers the question. "I guess...just as long as I don't end up blindfolded."

He grins and eagerly jogs over to her side. "Thanks," he replies, giving her a quick peck. "I hope they haven't started without us," he says once he's behind the wheel and she's sitting next to him. "They wouldn't, would they?"

"They better not."

"Yeah, I'm starving."

She raises her eyebrow at him as the car pulls onto the highway. "Is that the only reason you hope they haven't started without us?"

"Of course not," he quickly replies. "My hunger is the second reason, obviously."

"Well," she sighs, glancing at the clock. "Let's just hope Owen's fashionably late too."

"Would Via be late?"

"Never mind then."

"Besides," Phil adds, signaling a right turn. "Our moms are cooking his favorites."

"Why aren't they making _our _favorites?" she mumbles through her frown. "It's _our _three year anniversary."

"I think we've been replaced, Keel."

"By Via too," she pouts.

"Yep," he replies, steering the car along their neighborhood's streets.

"Via," Keely huffs, rolling her eyes. "I can see the look on her face now."

"She can't use that one to explain our tardiness," he says with a smirk. "My house doesn't have a storage shed, remember?"

"Like that'll stop her?"

He chuckles and reaches for her hand resting on her thigh. Threading his fingers with hers, he glances down at the turquoise ring, now the symbol of his promise to her, and he smiles, thinking how he should do something about that scratch someday. She softly squeezes his hand, and he makes a quick mental note. Yes, he should do something about that someday. And soon.

As the car comes to a stop in front of the brightly lighted home, she opens the door only to be gently pulled back to her seat.

"Phil?"

"Gold or silver?"

Raising her eyebrows, she laughs. "Excuse me?"

"Pick one."

"Phil."

"Just do it, please."

She sighs and shrugs her shoulders. "Umm...silver?"

"Silver?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"You need to be sure, Keel."

"Why?"

"Because _I_ need to be sure."

"Again...why?"

"Silver is your choice, for sure?" he asks, refusing to explain to her the reason behind his unusual request.

She nods slowly. "Yeaahh...silver. For sure."

He grins as an image comes to mind. "Silver it is then."

"Hey!" she exclaims as he quickly jumps out of the car, leaving her to scramble to catch up. "What's up, Phil?"

"Nothin'."

"Don't give me that."

"Just...wanted to know..." he replies mysteriously with a wink before entering the house filled with loud chatter and laughter, "for _future_ reference," he says, placing a kiss to her lips, just the right touch to make her want to melt.

Standing in the doorway, Keely stares after him for a few seconds as he steps away from her and into the inviting home where his mom greets him with a hug, his dad with a wave and a yell, his sister with a smack on his back as she passes by, and Owen with a distorted interjection due to the large amount of food stuffed into his mouth.

"Finished?"

She blinks and glances at the brunette in front of her. "Huh?"

"Join us, Keely," she chuckles, lightly pushing her from the threshold so that she can close the door. A crash followed by a loud uproar sounds behind her and she cringes. "Welcome to the circus."

"You know something, Via?" she says, shedding her coat and meeting his gaze and seeing that lopsided grin. "I'd love to."

Giving a silent thanks to the heavens, she sits with him on the couch.


End file.
